'WfrUs* 

University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


&~ 


See  page  87 


CHARLEY    POW-WOW'S    WARNING. 


TREASURE 
M  O  UNTAI  N 

OR 

THE  YOUNG  PROSPECTORS 


BY 

EDWIN  L.  SABIN 

» 

AUTHOR  OF  "BAR  B  BOYS,"  "RANGE  AND  TRAIL/1 
"CIRCLE  K,"  "OLD  FOUR-TOES,"  ETC. 


I'm  the  faithful  animile  of  a  most  peculiar  shtyle ; 

I'm  supposed  to  be  a  sort  o'  goat  an'  bird ; 
Where  there's  niver  trail  nor  track  do  I  tote  the  hiwy  pack, 
An'  I  sing  the  swatest  carols  iver  heard  : 
Hee-haw! 

— Flapjack  Jim's  Burro. 


NEW   YORK 

THOMAS   Y.    CROWELL   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Fourth  Thousand 


COPYRIGHT,  1913, 
BY  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY. 


CHAPTER  FLOAT  AND  COLOR 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    SIGNAL  SMOKES 1 

II.    A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY 14 

III.  THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON 32 

IV.  FLAPJACK  JIM  JOINS  THE  PARTY  ....    45 
V.    GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT— 59 

VI.  ALL  THAT  GLITTERS  is  NOT  GOLD    ...     73 

VII.  CHARLEY  Pow- wow's  WARNING   ....    86 

VIII.    THE  BIG  KING  APPEARS 96 

IX.  THE  WONDER  FOREST 105 

X.  THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK  .  .  .  .116 

XL  ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL 132 

XII.  THE  CAVE  IN  THE  MOUNTAIN 144 

XIII.  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  CAVE      ....  157 

XIV.  BONITA  PROVES  HER  SMARTNESS  .    .    .    .169 
XV.     IN  THE  MOUSETRAP 178 

XVI.    BROWNIE  TO  THE  FRONT 191 

XVII.    GRIZZLY  DAN'S  BOOTY 201 

iii 


M611SO 


iv  CHAPTER  FLOAT  AND  COLOR 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVIII.     ASTRAY  IN  CLOUD-LAND 213 

XIX.    AT  LAST  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS 226 

XX.  THE  MEDICINE  ELK  AGAIN  .     .     .     .     .     .237 

XXI.    UNDER  THE  GREAT  CROSS 249 

XXII.    THE  RED  SMOKE .  261 

XXIII.  THE  SHEEP-HORN  MINE 271 

XXIV.  BACK  WITH  THE  SPOILS -• ;.   '.  284 


PROSPECTORS 

Veterans  to  the  Reader: 

T>,TT-    A/TA^        XT  )  — Cow- Punchers,      Sheep-Herders, 
CHET  SIMMS       }       White  Injuns,'  now  on  Treasure 

GRIZZLY  DAN— The  Old  Trapper  on  his  Last  Long 

Trail 
THE  BLACK  MAN — Poaching  on  Fresh  Preserves 

MoLLYY  [  — Who  Continue  to  Bob  Up  Serenely 

THE   PROFESSOR — Much  at  Home  among  the   Rocks 

CHARLEY  Pow-wow  THE  UTE — Who  Darkly  Prophe- 
sies but  Proves  a  Friend  in  Need 

TONY          )  —The  Two  Ute    Boys,  Become  Mighty 

FRANCISCO  J          Hunters 

MR.  SIMMS — Plainsman  and  Bar  B  Rancher,  on 
Lucky  Vacation 

OLD  JESS— Of  the  Texas  Trail  and  the  Bar  B,  also 
on  a  Vacation 

BONITA — Smartest  Dog  in  the  World 

WOOF  ^| 

RAGS     I  —Her  Half- Wolf  Pups,  Who  Stay  on  the 

NIG       f       Mountain 

LlMPYj 

MEDICINE  EYE  ) 

PEPPER  [•  —Of  the  Bar  B  Horse-Herd 

COTTONTAIL        ) 

THE  SPOTTED  PONY— Grizzly  Dan's  Faithful  Saddle- 
horse 

BETTY— Grizzly  Dan's  Faithful  Pack-Mule 
SALLY— Grizzly  Dan's  Faithful  Flintlock  Rifle 
The  Black  Wolves 

Tenderfeet  to  the  Reader: 

FLAPJACK  JIM — Over  Fifty  Years  on  the  Prospect 

Trail 

BROWNIE — His  Burro 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  SCAR  )    — Fellow-Conspirators 
THE  CROSS-EYED  MAN  i"      with  the  Black  Man 

Dick,  Bob,  "Fat,"  "Jinks,"  and  other  School  of  Mine 

Students 
THE  BIG  ELK — Lone  King  of  Red  Chief  Mountain 

BOOK   PROSPECT   COUNTRY 
Red  Chief  Peak  in  Lost  Park,  Rocky  Mountains 


TREASURE   MOUNTAIN 


CHAPTER   I       r  ; 

SIGNAL   SMOKES 

IN  a  shallow,  sagy  basin  amidst  a  wild,  still  moun- 
tain country,  two  boys,  their  saddle-horses  and  a  pack- 
horse  grazing  near,  busily  fed  sod  stuff  to  a  compact 
little  fire.  Between  times  they  peered  at  the  encir- 
cling sky-line. 

The  fire  was  not  a  good  fire,  one  might  think,  for  it 
smoldered  and  smoked,  sending  into  the  clear  air  a 
tall  smudge  like  a  plume. 

Around  about  the  shallow  basin  rose  thickly  tim- 
bered slopes,  stretching  far,  dark  green  with  millions 
of  pines  and  spruces  and  cedars;  above  the  slopes 
reached  onward  bare  crests  and  ridges,  veiled  in  pur- 
plish haze;  and  over  all,  vaster  than  all,  higher  than 
all,  here  in  the  depths  of  the  Rockies  as  in  the  popu- 
lous cities,  was  the  wide,  eternal  sky. 

Several  of  the  mountain-tops  were  peculiar.  Tow- 
ering behind  the  halting-spot  of  the  two  boys  and 
their  animals  was  a  tremendous  bare  peak  of  glowing 
crimson,  beautiful  and  majestic  in  the  bright  sunshine 
of  noon — a  cross  of  white,  barely  visible  to  the  keen- 
est eyes,  upon  its  very  apex.  This  mountain  was 
Red  Chief.  On  ahead  rose  a  longer  crest,  with  the 

1 


2  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

outline  of  a  gigantic  Indian  extended  upon  his  back 
under  a  blanket.  This  was  Warrior  Peak.  And  else- 
where, engirting,  were  Buffalo  Lodge  Peak  and  Cocks- 
..comb  Peak,  and  others  in  a  wondrous  company  of 
•jnx>harchs/ :  ;/•  {  I 

•'.  : :  .^°5".tjus..  wa.s  the  romantic  Lost  Park  region  of  the 
•***••'  frigh'Wes'teirn  :R6ckies.     Few  travelers  entered  it,  and 
peak  spoke  mainly  with  peak. 

A  chipmunk  who  excitedly  sat  bolt  upright  on  a 
flat  rock  and  flicked  his  tail  while  he  watched  the 
operations  of  the  two  boys  might  have  deemed,  by  the 
way  they  were  making  smoke,  that  they  were  lost  in 
this  Lost  Park.  But  not  they.  They  had  been  in 
here  before,  this  very  summer,  had  Chet  Simms  and 
Phil  Macowan;  they  had  explored  the  Park  under 
"guidance  of  Grizzly  Dan,  the  old  trapper;  besides,  be- 
ing veterans  of  the  Bar  B  cow  outfit  and  the  Circle 
K  sheep  outfit,  they  were  not  to  be  easily  lost  (at 
least,  so  they  believed)  anywhere  in  the  Western 
open. 

Phil,  the  taller  of  the  two,  standing  in  overalls  and 
blue  flannel  shirt,  wiped  his  brow  with  a  red  bandanna 
handkerchief  and  replaced  his  drab  broad-brimmed 
hat. 

"Funny  where  old  Dan  is,"  he  complained. 
"We've  been  making  plenty  smokes  ever  since  we 
struck  the  Park,  and  he  doesn't  answer." 

"Naw,"  replied  disgustedly  Chet,  the  stockier  lad, 
blue-eyed,  round-faced,  tow-haired,  freckled  through 
his  tan.  "We've  left  a  trail  of  smoke  clear  back  to 
the  Magic  Lakes.  If  we  keep  on,  pretty  soon  we'll 


SIGNAL  SMOKES  3 

be  at  the  cabin  under  Warrior.     Don't  savvy  this. 


me." 


"Wagh!"  grunted  Phil,  with  the  white  Injun  ex- 
clamation learned  from  Grizzly  Dan.  "This  child 
doesn't  savvy,  either.  Thought  he'd  meet  us  at  the 
Lakes ;  thought  he'd  answer,  anyhow.  He  said  he'd  be 
looking.  We're  only  a  week  late." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  quit  feeding  fires,"  proclaimed 
Chet,  rising  from  his  squatty  posture.  "Come  on; 
let's  get  out.  Here,  you  Medicine  Eye,  where  are  you 
going?  And  with  quick  step  he  caught  the  dragging 
bridle-reins  of  a  bay  saddle-horse.  "Come  on,"  he  re- 
peated; "we'll  ride  straight  through  to  the  cabin  and 
see  what's  the  matter," 

Phil  promptly  stepped  for  the  reins  of  the  little 
iron-gray  or  "blue"  horse  named  Pepper ;  and  Cotton- 
tail, the  white-tailed  roan  from  whose  top-pack  pro- 
jected the  handles  of  three  miner's  picks,  lifted  in- 
quiring head.  Then  he  fell  greedily  to  cropping  last 
mouth fuls  of  forage. 

Vaulting  into  saddle,  with  feet  settled  in  stirrups 
each  boy  took  one  more  look  in  the  direction  of  War- 
rior Peak,  where  they  hoped  that  an  answer  smoke 
might  be  upfloating.  When,  five  weeks  before,  they 
had  left  there  old  Dan,  at  the  white  Injun  cabin  under 
Warrior,  in  order  to  go  outside  and  get  supplies  need- 
ed for  mine-hunting  on  Red  Chief,  they  had  engaged 
to  make  a  smoke  when  they  reentered  the  Park  and 
he  had  engaged  to  be  watching  for  it. 

Now,  returned  and  bearing  upon  Cotton-tail  the 
fresh  supplies,  they  had  faithfully  made  their  smokes, 


4  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

but  from  Grizzly  Dan  had  come  no  response.  This 
was  queer.  Perhaps  something  had  happened  to  the 
old  trapper.  He  was  past  eighty,  he  had  been  newly 
wounded  in  a  duel  with  Vie  jo  Cheyenne,  the  aged  chief 
who  had  shown  the  Utes,  his  long-time  captors,  how 
a  Cheyenne  could  fight  and  die ;  and  during  the  boys' 
absence  he  might  have  been  stricken  ill.  As  with  Chet 
he  scanned  the  mystic  outline  of  Warrior  Peak,  Phil 
felt  a  pang  of  anxious  fear. 

But  he  was  vivified  by  Chet's  sudden  cry  : 

"There's  a  smoke!  Isn't  that  smoke,  on  Red 
Chief?" 

From  the  saddle  Chet's  backward  glance  had 
sighted  it, — a  slender  smoke  column  welling  above  the 
brush  cloaking  the  hither  flank  of  Red  Chief  Moun- 
tain. Yes,  it  was  smoke,  but  behind  and  not  before. 

"See  it?"  asked  Chet,  excited. 

"I  shore  do,"  affirmed  Phil,  broadly,  and  not  to  be 
outdone. 

The  slender  column  broke  into  distinct  puffs;  and 
instantly  asserting:  "That's  old  Dan,  all  right.  Come 
on.  Head  for  the  smoke.  He  wants  us,"  Chet 
whirled  Medicine  Eye,  and  went  jingling  at  a  trot, 
standing  and  leaning  forward,  cow-puncher  style,  in 
the  stirrups. 

His  hat-brim  flared  back;  his  rifle,  in  scabbard 
under  left  leg,  jolted;  saddle  creaked;  sage  cracked. 

After  him  pushed  Phil,  hat-brim  also  flaring;  little 
carbine,  in  scabbard  likewise,  jolting;  saddle  creaking; 
sage  cracking. 

Cotton-tail,  apparently  forgotten  in  this  hasty  de- 


SIGNAL  SMOKES  5 

parture,  with  wonder  raised  his  scarred  nose,  and 
pricking  his  ears,  stared.  Then,  with  final  snatch  at 
herbage,  arid  with  an  annoyed  nicker,  he  broke  into 
a  clumsy  trot,  refusing  to  be  left.  His  panniers 
rattled,  his  top  pack  swayed,  but  all  held  tight,  for 
the  boys'  diamond  hitch  had  been  thrown  true. 

"Shucks,  now!"  called  back  Chet,  abruptly  slack- 
ening. "We  ought  to  have  made  a  smoke  in 
answer." 

"That's  so.  Can't  stop  for  it,  though,  can  we?" 
replied  Phil.  "He'll  know,  I  reckon.  Must  have  seen 
our  other  smoke.  He'll  be  watching  for  us.  Ex- 
pect he's  watching  us  now.  He  can  see  about  ten 
miles!" 

"What's  he  doing  there  on  Red  Chief,  off  the 
trail?" 

"Up  to  something,  all  right." 

"He  shore  is." 

"Maybe  he's  found  the  mine,  already!" 

"Naw,  don't  believe  so.  He  wouldn't  look  for  it 
without  us.  It's  'way  on  top." 

"No,  don't  believe  he  would." 

They  had  crossed  the  sagy  basin  and  were  among 
timber  and  brush;  the  pines  and  spruces  grew  closely, 
and  at  every  opening  the  sumac  and  thimble-berry  and 
squaw-berry  and  other  bushes  had  crowded  forward 
to  enjoy  life. 

Chet  led,  Phil  on  Pepper  followed  hard,  and  at  the 
rear  trailed  the  wise  Cotton-tail,  determined  not  to  be 
deserted. 

As  straight  as  possible  in  the  direction  where  the 


6  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

smoke  had  been  sighted  rode  Chet  the  guide;  and 
when  after  twenty  or  thirty  minutes  they  emerged 
into  another  clearing  or  park,  they  looked  eagerly. 
But  the  smoke  had  ceased. 

"Aw,  jiminy!"  objected  Chet,  momentarily  halting. 
"What'd  he  quit  for?  How  are  we  going  to  find 
anybody  in  all  this  brush  and  timber?" 

"Just  keep  on  riding,  I  reckon,"  proposed  Phil. 

"I  reckon,"  grunted  Chet,  shortly. 

So  they  continued. 

The  signal  smoke  had  appeared  to  rise  from  the 
slope  of  Red  Chief  himself.  The  sagy  basin  had  been 
below.  Now  seeking  the  smoke  the  boys  plunged 
along,  climbing,  but  alternately  ascending  and  de- 
scending as  they  wound  among  swells  and  hollows. 

"Here,"  after  a  time  spoke  Chet,  "what's  the  use 
in  chasing  a  man  over  a  whole  mountain?  Let's  make 
another  smoke,  first  chance  we  get,  and  see  what  hap- 
pens." 

The  idea  struck  Phil,  who  was  hot  and  scratched  and 
disappointed,  as  sound.  At  the  next  open  spot  or 
little  park  they  tumbled  off.  Pepper  and  Medicine 
Eye  stood  with  heaving  sides  while  their  masters 
gathered  grass  and  the  dried  pine  needles.  Cotton- 
tail immediately  resumed  his  grazing,  for  an  experi- 
enced campaigner  was  Cotton-tail,  who  never  missed 
a  chance. 

The  heap  of  fuel  was  ready,  and  Chet  had  match 
in  hand,  about  to  apply  it,  when  a  rustle  in  the  brush 
at  the  edge  of  the  timber  caught  his  quick  ear,  and 
the  ear  of  Phil  as  well.  He  stayed  his  hand.  He 


SIGNAL  SMOKES  7 

and  Phil  looked.  Chet  sprang  for  his  rifle,  hanging 
in  scabbard  upon  Medicine  Eye. 

"Wolf!"  he  muttered,  in  terse  warning.  "Black 
wolf.  Saw  him." 

He  jerked  rifle  from  saddle  holster.  Phil  ran  for 
his  carbine — his  trusty  little  carbine  with  the  stock 
gashed  by  a  bullet  in  the  days  of  the  Bar  B  round-up. 

Chet  might  very  well  have  seen  a  black  wolf;  he 
was  not  often  mistaken,  was  good  old  Chet^-and 
then,  there  was  a  black  wolf  pack  that  ranged  through 
Lost  Park. 

Some  animal  was  in  that  fringing  timber  and 
brush.  Cotton-tail  had  quit  his  grazing  and  was 
staring  with  ears  erect,  while  his  jaws  worked  me- 
chanically upon  the  remnants  of  his  last  grab.  Pepper 
and  Medicine  Eye  also  were  much  interested. 

"Look  out,  now !"  bade  Chet.  "If  you  see  him  give 
it  to  him,"  as  forgetting  the  unlighted  fire  they  stole 
forward,  treading  steadily  and  eying  closely,  weapons 
at  a  ready. 

From  the  edge  of  the  clearing  they  peered  beyond 
it,  for  a  glimpse  of  a  dusky  form  slinking  among  the 
serried  trunks  and  the  clumps  of  shrubs.  Chet's  gun 
leaped  to  his  shoulder;  with  scowl  and  mutter  of  im- 
patience he  hastily  shifted  position,  as  for  better  aim. 

"There  it  goes!"  he  cried.  "See  it?  Running? 
Now  it's  stopped;  it's  looking!  Now  it's  coming  this 
way.  Look  out!  Must  be  mad!  Shoot!"  His 
rifle  hammer  clicked  on  empty  chamber,  and  furiously 
he  worked  the  lever  to  throw  in  a  shell.  "Aw,  shucks !" 

"Wait!"  Phil's  voice  rang  clear  and  sharp.     "Don't 


8  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

shoot!  Don't,  Chet!  'It's  Bonita!  Bonita!  Here, 
Bonita!  Why,  Bonita!  Why,  old  girl!" 

At  sound  of  his  lively  hail  the  black,  furry  shape 
which,  head  high,  had  been  reconnoitering  them  un- 
certainly amidst  the  timber  growth,  suddenly  was 
transformed  into  a  bounding  ball  of  energy,  rushing 
at  them  recklessly.  Another  moment,  and  it  had  ar- 
rived—  a  black-coated  sheep-dog,  bursting  with  joy. 
She  leaped,  she  rolled,  she  whined,  she  waggled,  she 
grinned,  with  voice  and  tail  and  wrinkled  lips  and 
dancing  eyes  and  lavish  tongue,  aye,  with  every  atom 
of  her  whole  being  she  tried  to  talk. 

Phil  roundly  hugged  her;  and  Chet  was  not  a  bit 
backward  in  pats  and  words. 

"Say,  but  I'm  glad  that  gun  missed  fire,"  he 
gasped. 

"Whew!"  agreed  Phil.  "Bonita!  Why,  Bonita! 
We  thought  you  were  a  wolf.  We  didn't  mean  to 
shoot  at  you.  Poor  doggie!  Poor  girlie!" 

For  this  was  Bonita,  fine  sheep-dog  given  by  Luis 
the  Calif ornian  herder  to  Phil,  when  they  all  herded 
the  Circle  K  sheep,  a  year  before. 

"Old  Dan  must  be  around  somewhere,"  hazarded 
Phil. 

"Where's  your  family,  Bonita?"  queried  Chet. 

Bonita  whined;  and  as  if  in  answer  to  her,  or  to 
Chet,  out  from  the  brush  raced  a  roly-poly,  woolly 
black  object  about  the  size  of  a  woodchuck  or  ground- 
hog. After  it  raced  another. 

"Here  they  come,"  laughed  Phil.  "Haven't  they 
grown,  though!" 


SIGNAL  SMOKES  9 

Evidently  they  had  been  left  behind,  in  their 
mother's  reconnoitering  and  her  wild  run  to  greet 
her  master;  now,  keen  on  the  trail,  they  at  last  had 
overtaken  her.  Two  others  followed,  and  the  family 
was  complete. 

As  the  pups  tumbled  about  their  feet,  the  boys  bent 
and  examined  them. 

"Half  wolf,  all  right,  sure,"  pronounced  Chet. 

"Don't  look  much  different  from  ordinary  pups, 
though,"  remarked  Phil. 

But  half  wolf  they  were,  their  father  some  member 
of  that  black  pack  which  inhabited  Lost  Park,  and 
which  had  roamed  about  the  white  Injun  cabin  until 
Grizzly  Dan  had  warned  them  away.  At  present  the 
pups  did  look  as  might  any  baby  sheep  dog,  their 
blackness  being  their  chief  characteristic.  But  then, 
Bonita  was  black,  except  for  her  white  chest,  and  the 
father  had  been  all  black. 

They  were  a  very  interesting  family  of  youngsters, 
and  Bonita  appeared  to  be  proud  of  them. 

"Where's  Dan,  Bonita?"  asked  Phil. 

"He's  around  somewhere,  I  bet  you,"  proclaimed 
Chet. 

"Wagh !"  uttered  a  voice  behind  them,  as  they  were 
sweeping  the  timber  with  searching  gaze;  and  they 
turned  with  a  jump. 

A  tall  old  man,  in  worn  buckskin  shirt  and  leggins 
and  moccasins,  and  wide-brimmed  black  hat,  stood 
leaning  upon  a  long-barreled,  muzzle-loading  rifle, 
and  laughing  silently.  At  his  waist  hung  powder- 
horn  and  bullet-pouch — the  latter  of  beaded  hide. 


io  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

With  his  full  white  beard  and  his  shaggy  white  hair, 
his  old-time  garb  and  his  easy  attitude,  he  made  a 
picturesque  figure. 

Bonita  and  the  pups  rushed  at  him,  in  tumultuous 
welcome,  as  if  they  had  not  seen  him  for  a  year.  So 
hearty  are  dogs. 

"Hurray!    There  he  is!"  cheered  Phil.     And— 

"Hello.  Buefio  (good),"  greeted  Chet,  as,  con- 
cealing their  chagrin  at  thus  being  surprised,  they 
strode  gladly  to  him. 

Grizzly  Dan  chuckled  in  his  shaggy  white 
whiskers,  and  raised  one  lean  brown  hand,  with  palm 
outward — the  peace  sign. 

"How?"  he  quoth,  shaking  hands  with  the  boys. 

"We  were  looking  for  you,"  informed  Phil.  "Bo- 
nita said  you  were  around." 

"Wagh !  I  see  you  lookin' ;  an'  if  I'd  been  a  hostile 
I  could  have  lifted  ha'r  from  both  o'  ye,  'fore  you 
found  me,"  he  reproved.  "An'  I  tell  'ee,  thar's  hos- 
tiles  near,  too.  So  better  be  keerful." 

"Are  there?     Where?"  demanded  Chet,  excited, 

"Don't  'ee  hurry,  don't  'ee  hurry,"  crooned  old 
Dan.  "Too  much  talk  all  at  once.  Guess  you  forgot 
yore  white  Injun  ways  whilst  you  were  back  to  the 
settlements.  Wagh!  Let's  make  a  leetle  medicine, 
fust,  an'  behave  proper." 

So  saying,  he  methodically  seated  himself,  cross- 
legged,  the  long  rifle  (which  was  a  flintlock)  athwart 
his  knees,  and  producing  a  stubby  ancient  black  pipe, 
filled  it  from  a  small  decorated  sack.  He  lighted  it 
with  flint  and  steel.  He  solemnly  puffed,  offering  the 


SIGNAL  SMOKES  n 

pipe,  stem  first,  to  sky  and  earth  and  to  the  four 
points  of  the  compass.  Knowing  better  than  to  in- 
terrupt the  old  fellow  in  his  trapper  custom,  the  boys 
sat  quietly,  waiting. 

Grizzly  Dan  finished  his  performance,  and  tucked 
the  pipe  away  inside  his  buckskin  shirt. 

"Thar,"  he  grunted,  satisfied.  "Sech  is  only  proper 
when  friends  meet  agin  on  the  trail." 

"We  saw  your  signal  smoke.  You  made  those 
puffs,  didn't  you?"  queried  Phil.  "Did  you  see 
ours?" 

Grizzly  Dan  nodded. 

"Sartin.  Been  seein'  yore  smokes  for  a  day  or 
two." 

"Why  didn't  you  answer?  We  didn't  see  any  an- 
swer," accused  Chet,  flatly.  Chet  was  a  straightfor- 
ward boy  who  sometimes  even  was  a  little  pugnacious. 
He  never  minced  words,  did  Chet,  but  arrived  right 
at  the  point  and  was  done. 

"Why  didn't  I  answer,  boy?"  repeated  old  Dan. 
"Thar  air  hostiles  about,  I  tell  'ee.  I  war  busy. 
Didn't  you  read  my  sign,  in  those  puffs?" 

"Not  exactly.  We  thought  it  was  you,  and  you 
were  signaling  for  us,  so  we  made  for  you,"  con- 
fessed Phil,  frankly. 

"Didn't  know  what  else  to  do,"  grumbled  Chet. 

"You  ought  to  1'arn  sign,  boy,"  reproved  old  Dan, 
querulously.  "Those  war  smoke  sign,  those  two  puffs 
I  kep'  sendin'  up.  They  said,  plain  as  ha'r  on  my 
face,  'Enemy  discovered/  an'  it  war  to  make  you 
cautious.  'Stead  o'  bein'  cautious,  hyar  you  war 


12  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

rampin'  through  the  brush,  an'  startin'  another 
smoke,  'fore  I  signaled  agin;  an'  you  war  halted  in 
the  open,  whar  you  might  'a  been  massacreed  if  I 
hadn't  come  along.  Though  o'  course,"  and  he 
chuckled  his  famous  chuckle,  "thar  reely  ain't  no  one 
to  massacree  ye." 

"But  who  are  the  hostiles?  And  what  are  you  do- 
ing up  on  Red  Chief?"  asked  Phil. 

"Shore,"  supported  Chet. 

"Don't  'ee  see  I'm  afoot?"  directed  old  Dan.  "Did 
'ee  think  I'd  be  afoot  if  hostiles  hadn't  raided  my 
hos  herd  an'  run  it  all  off,  during  the  night,  last  week, 
makin'  me  pack  moccasins  on  their  trail?  Wagh! 
But  I've  located  'em,  an'  you've  come  jest  in  time  to 
help  me  lift  ha'r — if  ha'r's  to  be  lifted,  which  it  ain't 
but  ought  to  be." 

"What?  Somebody  run  off  Betty  and  the  spotted 
pony?"  exclaimed  Phil. 

"Who?"  demanded  Chet,  more  direct. 

Grizzly  Dan  nodded  slowly. 

"Yep,  boy;  mule  an'  hoss,  both  stole  to  onct  whilst 
I  warn't  suspectin'  ary  hostile  war  about.  Who,  you 
ask?  They  left  boot  tracks  in  my  medder,  they  did, 
an'  at  their  next  camp;  so  I  call  'em  whites.  One  of 
'em's  that  black  man  pelt  thief  who  went  over  to  the 
Injuns  when  we  had  our  leetle  fracas,  short  time  ago; 
an'  he's  got  two  pardners  with  him." 

"Say!"  ejaculated  Chet.  "That  traitor?  Where 
is  he?  Let's  go  and  get  your  horse  and  mule." 

"Sartin,"  drawled  old  Dan.  "Soon  as  convenient. 
Their  camp's  yonder.  So's  mine,  with  pot  on  fire. 


SIGNAL  SMOKES  13 

'Spect  you  boys  must  be  wolfish.  As  for  this  coon,  he 
air  plumb  empty,  he  air.  He  air  starvin'!  So  come 
'long  an'  we'll  sample  pot.  Fust  fill  meat  bags,  then 
act,  air  my  motto." 


CHAPTER   n 

A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY 

GRIZZLY  DAN  arose,  and  shouldering  his  long  rifle 
stalked  away.  Hastily  mounting,  the  boys  followed, 
catching  up  with  him  just  as  he  disappeared  at  the 
farther  edge  of  the  little  park.  Cotton-tail,  as  usual 
the  last,  with  protesting  whinny  snatched  another 
mouthful  of  weeds  and  champing  on  it  trotted  after. 

The  tall  buckskin  figure  of  Grizzly  Dan  made  way 
swiftly,  choosing  always  the  easier  course  but  appar- 
ently never  losing  the  one  direction.  The  timber  and 
brush  enclosed ;  and  after  about  an  hour's  march,  dur- 
ing which  not  a  word  was  spoken,  they  broke  out 
into  a  great  area  of  high  reddish  rock-masses  up- 
cropping  everywhere,  many  of  them  set  on  edge,  so 
to  speak,  with  long  dried  grasses  and  fruiting  bushes 
growing  thickly  in  the  multitude  of  lanes. 

This  was  a  place  pleasant  with  sun  and  smells,  but 
very  confusing.  However,  old  Dan  strode  unhesita- 
ting, the  short  cavalcade  winding  after ;  and  presently 
rounding  a  rock-mass  shoulder  which  would  block  the 
way,  abruptly  entering  an  open  space  they  were  at 
Grizzly  Dan's  camp. 

The  dried  grass  was  soft  underfoot;  a  wall  of  rock 
closed  before;  and  the  red,  edge-up  rock-masses 
formed  a  broken  semicircle  round  about.  Against 

14 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  15 

the  rock  wall  was  welling  a  spring,  trickling  away 
across  the  sod.  In  an  angle  of  two  rock-masses  was 
a  buffalo-robe  bed ;  near  its  foot  was  smoldering  a  fire 
with  a  black  pot  hung  over  it.  The  pot  gently 
steamed.  It  was  a  pot  that  Grizzly  Dan  always  car- 
ried about  with  him,  as  strictly  as  he  carried  Sally  his 
rifle;  and  when  hung  over  a  fire  it  usually  contained 
something  good.  Another  excellent  token  that  the 
camp  would  not  prove  a  "hungry"  camp  was  several 
hide  lines,  stretched  from  shrub  to  shrub  or  rock  to 
rock,  and  thickly  hung  with  dark  strips  like  strips  of 
dried  leather.  These  were  "jerked"  or  sun-dried  veni- 
son, evidently. 

"Hyar,"  spoke  Grizzly  Dan,  well  content.  "Hyar's 
camp,  an'  fat  meat,  an'  mouths  to  eat  it.  Wagh !  Off 
saddle,  off  pack,  turn  out  yore  critters,  an'  set.  I'm 
powerful  glad  to  see  ye  agin.  Reckon  pot  air  ready." 

He  peeped  into  it,  as  his  first  duty,  and  sniffed  ap- 
provingly. While  the  boys  were  unlashing  Cotton- 
tail and  unsaddling  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye,  he  re- 
newed the  fire,  and  squatted  by  it,  waiting.  Bonita 
and  the  four  pups  also  squatted,  waiting,  eying  the 
pot  and  panting  expectantly. 

"If  you  got  any  dishes  in  yore  pack,  better  fetch 
'em  out,"  bade  old  Dan.  "Didn't  bring  any,  myself, 
'cause  I  traveled  light.  Packin'  Sally  an'  this  buff'ler 
robe  an'  the  pot  war  plenty,  I  tell  'ee.  But  I've  been 
makin'  a  leetle  meat,  as  you  can  see.  Got  more  back 
at  the  cabin.  Those  pesky  hostiles  interrupted  me," 
and  he  grumbled  to  himself. 

With  a  plate  apiece,  from  the  pack,  while  old  Dan 


16  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

used  a  convenient  bit  of  bark  which  he  had  stored 
away,  they  sampled  the  contents  of  the  steaming  pot. 

"Ground-hog!"  exclaimed  they  both  at  once,  view- 
ing the  whitish,  rather  greasy  stew. 

Grizzly  Dan  chuckled. 

"See  you  ain't  forgot,"  he  said,  as  with  a  whittled 
wooden  spoon  he  began  to  tuck  away  his  portion. 
"Tain't  cow,  an'  'tain't  deer,  an'  'tain't  beaver-tail, 
an'  'tain't  painter ;  it  air  plain  ground-hawg,  an'  thar's 
wuss  meat  runnin.'  These  hyar  rocks  air  full  o' 
hawgs,  all  fat.  They  live  on  roots  an'  sech  stuff,  and 
the  only  thing  they  need  air  cookin'  right." 

"When  you  got  up  a  feast  for  us  before,  first  time 
we  came  to  your  camp,  it  was  a  dog  feast — prairie 
dog,"  reminded  Phil. 

Dan  nodded. 

"So  'twar,"  he  affirmed.  "An5  after  that  I  give  you 
hawg,  an'  after  that  buff'ler,  an'  after  that  deer;  but 
we  didn't  try  painter  or  snake  or  young  hos." 

"Reckon  I'd  prefer  hog,"  quoth  Chet,  rising  to  help 
himself  a  second  time. 

"You'll  eat  hos  yet,  on  the  lean  trail,"  prophesied 
old  Dan,  darkly.  "An'  this  mine-hunt  trail  we're  on, 
to  the  top  o'  the  mountain,  looks  mighty  like  a  lean 
trail,  to  me.  Timber-line  lies  below,  an'  after  that 
thar's  a  pore  country  for  white  folks  to  live  off  of. 
Fetched  in  all  the  tools,  I  see." 

"Yes,  sir.  Picks  and  candles  and  the  like,"  an- 
swered Phil. 

"And  sugar  and  coffee  and  tea  and  a  lot  of  other 
chuck,"  supplemented  Chet. 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  17 

"Wagh !"  approved  old  Dan.  "An5  you  didn't  come 
any  too  soon.  Those  hostiles  who  stole  my  mule  an* 
hos  air  on  the  trail  for  that  gold  mine  o'  ourn,  or 
I'm  a  hos  myself.  They  air.  So  we  got  to  beat  'em, 
if  we  can." 

"They  haven't  the  map,  have  they?"  queried  Phil, 
quickly. 

"Not  ourn,"  assured  old  Dan.  "Not  ourn,  boy.  For 
hyar  'tis,"  and  he  extracted  from  the  bosom  of  his 
shirt  a  little  flat  packet. 

The  sight  of  it  was  a  relief.  This  was  the  rude  map 
of  the  long-dead  Trapper-Captain  Frapp,  uncovered 
in  the  stock  of  the  rusted  rifle  found  by  Phil  on  the 
old  trapper-Indian  battle-field  in  this  very  Lost  Park. 
The  map  was  not  especially  generous  in  its  details, 
maybe,  but  it  was  a  precious  relic  and  it  was  assurance 
(according  to  Dan)  that  on  the  top  of  Red  Chief 
Mountain  was  indeed  the  Trapper  Frapp  mine. 

"I've  been  studyin'  this  hyar  map,"  said  Grizzly 
Dan,  "an'  I  ain't  any  more  sartin  about  it  than  I  war 
when  we  fust  looked  at  it."  He  carefully  unfolded 
the  packet.  It  was  a  small  sheet  of  skin  or  hide 
scraped  thin,  brittle  and  yellow  with  age,  and  about 
six  inches  square.  On  it  were  tracings  in  black  and 
red.  As  old  Dan  spread  it  out  over  his  buckskin 
knee,  the  two  boys  bent  eagerly  to  scan  it  again. 

"Hyar  air  Red  Chief — the  mountain  with  the  red 
feather  in  its  head.  Trapper  trail  runs  'round  the 
mountain  from  the  two  lakes  on  t'other  side,  an'  hyar 
air  a  hand  p'intin'  down  at  a  leetle  cross  on  top  o'  the 
mountain,  in  second  saddle.  An'  hyar's  a  pair  o' 


i8  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

thumpin'  big  goat  horns,  with  three  curls  in  'em,  for 
Another  sign.  That's  a  sign  I  don't  read;  rest  air 
plain." 

Yes ;  as  old  Dan  had  said,  the  map  showed  a  moun- 
tain-peak with  a  curlicue  of  red  rising  from  it,  like 
a  feather — indicating,  according  to  Dan,  Red  Chief. 
It  showed  a  trail,  passing  from  two  lakes  around  the 


mountain  base;  and  a  hand  pointing  down  at  a  cross 
against  the  mountain-top,  where  a  wavy  curve  must 
mean  a  dip  or  saddle.  And  at  one  side  of  the  map 
was  a  skeleton  head  with  great  horns  having  three 
curls  each. 

It  was  an  interesting  map,  because  it  must  date  back 
as  far  as  beaver-hunt  days  in  the  early  forties,  when 
Trapper  Frapp  fell  before  a  Sioux  or  Cheyenne  bul- 
let; but  was  not  a  very  complete  map. 

"Mine  must  be  where  that  cross  is  marked,"  haz- 
arded Chet. 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  19 

"Wall,  mebbe  so — an'  agin,  mebbe  that  cross  air  the 
natteral  cross  o'  white  that  we  see  from  down  below. 
But  fust,  I'm  goin'  to  get  back  my  old  hos  an'  mule. 
After  that,  we'll  scout  for  the  mine.  Ought  to  dance 
medicine  a  bit,  now,  I  reckon,  to  settle  our  meat  bags ; 
then  we'll  go  after  the  critters." 

Old  Dan  stood,  balanced  with  body  inclined  for- 
ward, knees  slightly  crooked;  and  away  he  went,  in 
a  circle,  with  chant: 

"Whoo-oop!  Ow-ow-gh!  Hay-ah-hay! 
Hay-ee-hay  hah  ah-hay  hah-ah-hay! 
Whoo-oop!   Ow-ow-gh!   Hay-ah-hay! 
Hee-ah  hah-ah  hi-yah-hah! 
Whoo-oop!!" 

Promptly  the  boys  fell  in  behind,  imitating  his  mo- 
tions and  chanting  with  him  the  outlandish  words.  It 
was  Dan's  medicine-dance,  made  familiar  through 
many  previous  performances. 

Around  and  around  they  three  capered,  while  Bonita 
looked  on  with  ears  pricked,  and  the  four  pups  yapped 
or  ran  affrighted.  Suddenly  old  Dan,  out  of  breath, 
stopped.  Phil  and  Chet  stopped. 

"Thar!"  grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "Plenty  medicine. 
We're  strong  for  the  war  trail.  Let's  be  goin'.  My 
pinto  an'  mule'll  be  wonderin'  why  I  don't  come  after 
'em." 

He  picked  up  his  long  rifle. 

"Take  yore  weepons,  but  leave  other  things  as  they 
air,"  he  bade.  "This  is  a  scout  afoot."  And  busily 
he  strode  away,  weaving  among  the  rock-masses. 


20  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Hastily  grabbing  carbine  and  rifle  and  cartridge  belts, 
Phil  and  Chet  followed. 

"Back,  Bonita !  Stay  back !"  ordered  Phil,  in  leaving. 

Bonita,  halted  short,  surprised  and  disappointed, 
obediently  remained  as  camp  guard.  One  by  one  her 
puppies,  rummaging  about  as  puppies  do,  returned  to 
her  side. 

Rifle  upon  shoulder  Grizzly  Dan  moved  rapidly, 
walking  with  long,  easy  steps  that  covered  an  amazing 
extent  of  ground.  In  single  file  followed  the  two 
boys. 

They  left  the  area  of  rock-masses,  and  skirting  be- 
hind a  peculiar  low,  straight  line  of  red  outcrop  like 
a  ruinous  garden  wall,  climbed  the  slant  of  a  gentle 
ridge.  Cedars  grew  sparsely,  but  in  the  main  the 
mountain  here  was  bare,  broken  only  by  the  curious 
rock  formations. 

At  the  crest  of  the  ridge  old  Dan  paused,  and  from 
the  shelter  of  the  ruinous  garden  wall  on  his  right 
looked  over.  The  ridge  fell  away  in  another  gentle 
slope,  to  make  a  little  valley. 

"That  hostile  camp  war  down  in  thar,"  said  old 
Dan,  as  the  two  boys,  puffing,  joined  him.  "I've  been 
watchin'  'em,  an'  I  don't  reckon  they've  quit  yet.  But 
I  don't  see  nary  sign." 

The  sun  was  halfway  down  the  west,  or  apparently 
about  a  yard  above  the  mighty  peaks  of  Red  Chief, 
towering,  naked  of  coppery  body,  high  over  these  foot- 
hills, his  moccasins.  The  world  was  very  still,  bask- 
ing in  the  afternoon. 

Chet  and  Phil  peered  for  camp  sign,  but  saw  none. 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  21 

"Now,  they  ought  to  be  in  that  valley,  thar,"  com- 
muned old  Dan,  as  if  the  valley  might  have  been  a 
vacant  street,  or  a  grocery  store,  instead  of  an  area 
of  miles.  "No,  by  whackety!  Out  they're  trailin'l" 
he  asserted,  aroused.  "Quick  now!  Got  to  head  'em 
off.  Consarn  'em !  Mebbe  I  ought  not  to've  waited. 
But  I  thought  'em  fixed." 

And  away  he  plunged,  striding  prodigiously,  down 
the  slope. 

What  he  had  seen,  neither  boy  knew,  although,  now 
plunging  after,  between  steps  they  swept  with  their 
keenest  glances  the  landscape  below,  shimmering  in 
green  and  red.  Underfoot  the  gravel  and  sod  slipped 
before  their  heels. 

The  red  rock  wall  bent  over  the  crest  of  the  ridge 
and  continued  on  down  this  other  side.  Sticking  close 
to  it,  Grizzly  Dan  used  it  as  covert.  It  was,  as  said, 
a  peculiar  outcrop,  about  three  feet  thick  and  four  to 
six  feet  high,  and  extending  as  straight  as  if  run  by  a 
surveyor.  There  were  occasional  breaks  in  it,  and 
at  these,  and  at  the  lower  places,  a  view  was  given 
of  the  country  beyond. 

When  about  halfway  down  the  ridge,  Phil  at  last 
saw  what  Grizzly  Dan  had  seen.  On  the  right,  be- 
yond the  rock  wall,  wending  on  up  the  valley  were 
several  dots,  representing  horses  and  men.  There 
seemed  to  be  at  least  three  riders,  and  a  couple  of  pack- 
animals.  Evidently  Chet,  also,  saw;  for  en  route  he 
grunted,  and  pointed  significantly. 

The  wall  made  the  stalk  an  easy  one.  Still  shel- 
tered by  it,  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope  the  three  scouts 


22  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

might  stop ;  for  the  figures  were  coming  on.  Bending 
again,  the  wall  ran  up  the  opposite  slope,  proceeding 
indefinitely. 

Through  an  irregular  break  in  their  rampart  the 
boys  watched,  with  old  Dan,  and  awaited  his  instruc- 
tions. He  was  muttering  indignantly,  as  from  under 
shaggy  brows  (his  hat  removed)  he  scowled  at  the 
approaching  horsemen. 

"Thar's  my  pinto  an'  my  old  mule,  an'  they  got  'em 
both  packed,"  he  complained.  "I  tell  'ee,  sech  doin's 
don't  shine  with  this  child.  No,  they  don't.  He's 
lifted  ha'r,  in  his  day,  for  less,  he  has.  He  don't  keer 
about  those  fust  two  men ;  but  that  last  man,  with  my 
two  critters,  he's  got  to  quit,  sudden,  or  he'll  be  wiped 
out." 

Thus  old  Dan  muttered  peevishly,  surveying  the 
nearing  cavalcade.  Around  his  shoulders,  as  he 
squatted,  peeped  the  two  boys. 

On  drew  the  riders.  They  were  three,  in  a  line,  and 
the  last  was  leading  two  pack-animals.  In  the  first 
animal,  well  laden,  Phil  and  Chet  recognized  Grizzly 
Dan's  much  beloved  old  dun  mule — his  pack  bearer. 
Behind  it  followed  a  spotted  pony,  with  lesser  pack. 
This  was  Grizzly  Dan's  saddle  horse,  a  "paint"  or 
pinto,  so  called  because  of  its  markings.  Of  Betty 
his  mule,  and  of  his  "paint,"  old  Dan  was  very  fond ; 
they  had  long  been  his  faithful  comrades.  Now  to  see 
them  in  use  by  alien  hands,  and  especially  to  see  his 
pinto  packed,  aroused  him  thoroughly. 

However,  he  did  nothing  more  than  mutter  and 
scowl;  and  beside  him  the  boys  did  nothing  except 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  23 

peer  and  wait,  and  hitch  their  rifles  forward  a  little. 
The  riders  were  talking  recklessly;  they  were  unsus- 
picious of  spies  or  of  peril. 

The  leading  man  was  now  so  near  that  it  could 
be  seen  he  was  cross-eyed.  He  was  a  lean-faced,  nar- 
row-jawed man,  with  pointed  chin  and  long  nose,  and 
round  blue  eyes  which  turned  very  much  in.  He  wore 
an  old  straw  hat,  a  collarless  white  shirt  torn  and 
soiled,  a  vest  unbuttoned,  and  overalls.  He  was  smok- 
ing a  corn-cob  pipe,  and  seemed  unarmed. 

The  second  man  was  older,  with  gray  hair,  and  a 
gray-bristled  square  bull-dog  face  disfigured  by  a 
frightful  scar.  This  scar  cut  from  the  left  side  of  the 
nose  diagonally  across  to  the  lobe  of  the  left  ear; 
it  lay  as  a  reddish-white  welt,  and  gave  the  face  a 
grim  appearance.  The  scarred  man  wore  a  straight- 
brimmed  sombrero,  blue  'kerchief,  blue  flannel  shirt, 
khaki  trousers,  and  laced  boots.  Under  his  left  leg 
was  a  rifle. 

The  third  man  was  extremely  dark.  The  boys  knew 
him  at  once.  This  was  the  Black  Man,  who,  as  com- 
panion of  the  Red  Man,  had  been  caught  this  previous 
summer  killing  game  in  the  Park  against  the  law. 
The  Red  Man  was  no  more;  but  the  Black  Man's  end 
had  not  yet  come.  Dense  black  whiskers  covered  much 
of  his  face,  and  the  black  hair  extended  over  his  chest 
where  visible  beneath  his  open  shirt.  To-day  he  was 
wearing  a  black  slouch  hat,  red  'kerchief,  black  shirt, 
and  dark  trousers.  At  his  right  hip  dangled  a  six- 
shooter. 

From  his  right  hand  a  lead-rope  ran  back  to  the 


24  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

neck  of  Betty  the  dun  mule;  and  from  the  pack  of 
Betty  the  mule  another  lead-rope  ran  back  to  the  neck 
of  the  spotted  pony.  Betty's  pack  was  evidently  the 
camp  pack,  and  showed  also  a  shovel  and  a  pair  of 
picks.  The  spotted  pony's  pack  was  a  couple  of  ore- 
sacks  across  his  back,  one  on  either  side. 

"Here's  this  bloomin'  dike  in  the  way,"  called  back 
the  Cross-eyed  Man.  "Which  direction  you  want  to 
take,  so's  to  get  through?" 

"Doesn't  matter,"  answered  the  Black  Man,  from 
the  rear.  "Try  both,  an'  keep  your  eyes  out  for 
more  of  that  red  float.  We  want  to  follow  that  red 
float.  It  means  the  real  stuff." 

"A  few  tons  o'  that  red  float  an'  we'd  all  be  ridin' 
auty-wobiles,  'stead  of  hosses,"  spoke  the  Man  with 
the  Scar.  "That's  the  richest  float  ever  I  see.  Wish 
all  this  red  mountain  was  the  same." 

"There's  a  vein  of  it,  somewhere  above,  sure,"  an- 
swered the  Black  Man.  "It's  the  mine  we're  looking 
for,  or  I'm  much  mistaken.  So  keep  your  eyes  peeled 
for  more  of  the  red  rock,  lying  about." 

"Right,  oh!"  sang  the  Cross-eyed  Man;  and  he 
obliqued  to  the  right,  as  if  he  might  have  given  him- 
self an  order. 

This  took  him  away  from  the  little  party  behind  the 
dike  wall.  The  Man  with  the  Scar  turned  to  the  left. 
This  took  him  past  the  little  party  behind  the  dike 
wall.  And  now  the  Black  Man  also  turned  to  the 
right;  riding,  as  did  the  other,  with  eyes  upon  the 
ground,  searching  for  "more  of  the  red  rock." 

The  Cross-eyed  Man  was  about  twenty  yards  away, 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  25 

and  getting  farther ;  the  Man  with  the  Scar  was  about 
thirty  yards  away  and  obliquing  nearer;  the  Black 
Man  was  about  forty  yards  away,-  and  he,  also,  was 
getting  farther.  Something  must  be  done  at  once,  it 
seemed  to  Phil,  and  he  set  his  muscles  and  poised  his 
mind,  ready  to  act  at  the  first  word  from  old  Dan. 
Out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  noted  Chet  slightly 
and  cautiously  shift  a  foot,  as  if  preparing  for  quick 
movement. 

The  Black  Man  had  turned  from  the  course,  but 
Betty  the  dun  mule  was  slow  in  following,  and  the 
spotted  pony,  behind  her,  did  as  she  did.  So  when 
the  Black  Man  veered  aside,  Betty  obstinately  kept 
her  nose  to  the  front.  The  lead-rope  from  her  neck 
to  the  Black  Man's  hand  tautened,  and  twisted  in  the 
saddle  he  impatiently  hauled. 

"Come  along,  you!"  he  ordered  irritably,  with  an 
oath.  But  Betty  hung  back,  mulishly,  and  the  spotted 
pony  stopped  altogether,  waiting  for  Betty  to  proceed. 

The  Black  Man  hauled  harder,  and  swore  irritably, 
while  Betty  stoically  stood,  yielding  not  an  inch.  It 
was  a  tug  of  war,  for  an  instant;  and  that  instant  was 
enough.  Phil  saw  old  Dan  noiselessly  kneel  and  thrust 
forward  his  long  rifle  at  the  same  time — and  his  heart 
sprang  into  his  throat.  With  that  earnest  muzzle 
trained  upon  him  the  Black  Man  was  in  the  most 
deadly  peril.  Such  a  shot  would  be  murder!  Surely 
old  Dan  wouldn't — 

But  quick  as  the  thought  Sally  spoke — "Crack!" 
Well-nigh  at  the  same  moment  old  Dan  whistled  a 
shrill,  peculiar  whistle;  and  while  whistling  and  look- 


26  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

ing,  still  on  his  knees  he  reloaded  like  lightning.  Phil 
saw  him,  and  stared  at  the  same  time  at  the  Black 
Man.  Miraculous  to  say,  the  Black  Man  appeared  un- 
touched; but  the  taut  lead-rope  had  snapped,  cut  by 
old  Dan's  unerring  bullet,  and  Betty  the  mule  and  the 
spotted  pony,  both  with  heads  high,  ears  pricked,  were 
gazing  for  the  source  of  the  familiar  whistle. 

"Good  shooting !"  gasped  Chet. 

The  Black  Man  sat,  momentarily  stricken  stone- 
still  by  astonishment;  and  he,  and  the  gazing  Betty 
and  her  comrade,  made  an  interesting  tableau. 

However,  old  Dan  was  not  bent  on  posing  a  tableau. 
He  had  other  fish  to  fry.  "Cover  those  fellows, 
quick,"  he  bade  sharply,  rising  with  his  long  rifle  again 
leveled  upon  the  Black  Man — and  this  time  the  muzzle 
drew  a  short  straight  line  directly  between  the  two. 
And  he  called  loudly,  "Keep  yore  hand  off  yore  wee- 
pon  an'  let  those  thar  critters  come!" 

He  whistled,  as  before. 

Keen  and  prompt,  Chet  too  had  leaped  to  his  feet, 
his  rifle  upon  the  Cross-eyed  Man,  turned  inquiringly 
in  the  saddle. 

"You  hear,  yuh!"  snarled  Chet.  "You  man  in  the 
straw  hat.  Don't  yuh  move  till  we  say  so." 

Phil  felt  himself  also  standing  hastily,  and  heard  his 
own  voice,  as  in  a  dream,  saying,  as  he  held  the  bead 
of  his  little  carbine  upon  the  Scarred  Man's  chest — a 
chest  near  and  plain,  "Don't  you  move,  either." 

Beyond  the  rock  wall,  breast-high,  the  three 
mounted  men  sat  stunned  and  carefully  motionless. 
With  bray  and  imitative  whinny  Sally  and  the  spotted 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  27 

pony,  eyes  and  ears  directed  upon  old  Dan,  came  trot- 
ting. 

"Well,"  spoke  the  Black  Man,  gaining  nerve, 
"what's  this  all  about?  A  hold-up!" 

"Hold-up  o'  hos-thieves !"  retorted  old  Dan.  "Now 
you  move,  direction  you're  headin',  an'  you  keep  on 
movin'.  I've  got  what  I  want,  but  I've  lifted  ha'r  for 
less,  in  my  day,  !I  tell  'ee." 

"Hike!"  bade  Chet  to  his  man. 

"Turn  around,  you  in  the  laced  boots,"  directed 
Phil  to  his  man.  "Join  your  gang." 

The  Man  with  the  Scar  obediently  backed  his  horse 
about  and  at  a  trot  rode  down  along  the  wall.  The 
Cross-eyed  Man  laughed. 

"Two  kids  and  a  Buffalo  Bill  scout!"  he  bantered. 
"Must  be  a  Wild  West  show,  Jim." 

But  the  rifle  muzzles  of  the  "two  kids"  and  the 
"Buffalo  Bill  scout"  never  wavered,  and  evidently 
looked  as  large,  no  matter  who  might  be  behind 
them. 

"What  I  want  to  know  is,  do  we  lose  our  packs  as 
well  as  our  animals?"  responded  the  Man  with  the 
Scar,  as  he  rode  and  halted. 

"Yes,  how  about  those  packs,  old  man?"  demanded 
the  Black  Man. 

"Wait!"  called  old  Dan.  "Drop  yore  weepons, 
every  one  o'  ye,  jest  whar  you  air.  Then  leave  'em 
lay,  an*  ride  to  the  top  o'  yon  hill.  Needn't  hurry. 
We'll  'tend  to  yore  packs,  an'  when  we  give  you  signal 
you  can  come  down  an'  get  what's  left.  But  drop 
yore  weepons,  an'  do  it  powerful  sudden." 


28  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Guess  we'll  have  to,"  growled  the  Black  Man  to  his 
partners.  He  loosed  his  revolver  belt  and  tossed  it  to 
the  ground;  the  Man  with  the  Scar  extracted  from 
his  saddle  holster  his  rifle  and  dropped  it  also. 

"Nothing  on  me,  friends.  I'm  peaceful,"  informed 
the  Cross-eyed  Man,  grinning  and  throwing  wide  his 
hands. 

"All  right.  Get !"  ordered  old  Dan.  "When  you're 
on  top  the  hill,  stop.  We'll  fire  a  shot  for  you  to  come 
down,  at  proper  time." 

Without  another  word  the  three,  the  Black  Man, 
the  Cross-eyed  Man,  and  the  Man  with  the  Scar,  rode 
to  their  right,  paralleling  the  wall,  and  at  a  walk  be- 
gan to  ascend  the  hill  slope. 

"You  watch  'em,"  quoth  old  Dan,  to  the  boys;  and 
striding  through  the  crooked  breach  in  the  wall  he 
began  nimbly  to  unlash  Betty  the  mule's  pack. 

With  homely  gray  nose  Betty  attempted  to  nuzzle 
him,  in  glad  affection.  The  spotted  pony  nickered  and 
pressed  forward  jealously,  to  take  part  in  the  reunion. 

"Not  now,  old  gal,"  said  Grizzly  Dan,  as  he  worked. 
"Time  for  lovemakin'  later.  Hostiles  are  about  an'  we 
got  to  cache  ourselves.  Paint,  reckon  I'll  let  you  keep 
yore  leetle  pack  a  bit  yet,"  and  with  strong  heave  he 
contemptuously  shoved  Betty's  pack  from  her.  As  it 
tumbled  Betty  snorted  and  shook  herself,  as  if  glad 
to  be  freed  of  the  very  touch. 

"Let  it  lay.  Nothin'  in  it  we  want,  an'  we  airn't 
out  after  plunder,  anyhow,"  quoth  old  Dan,  for  the 
boys.  "Now,  I'll  drive  these  critters  on,  an*  you  close 
the  rear  an'  keep  yore  eyes  on  those  thar  hostiles. 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  29 

When  we  get  to  top  o'  our  hill  they  can  come  down 
from  top  o'  theirn." 

So  saying,  old  Dan  gathered  the  lead-rope  of  the 
spotted  pony,  loosened  from  Betty's  late  pack,  sprily 
vaulted  astraddle  of  him,  and  with  word  to  Betty,  as 
he  passed,  "Come  along,  old  gal,"  and  slap  on  her 
flank,  he  rode  away  on  the  back  trail.  An  odd  figure 
he  made,  too, — his  long  legs,  buckskin  sheathed,  bent 
at  the  knees  to  grip  the  pair  of  sacks,  his  body  inclined 
forward,  his  rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and  his 
right  hand  guiding  by  the  rope  bridle  the  spotted  pony. 
Ever  and  anon  his  moccasined  heels  hammered  the 
spotted  pony's  sides.  Betty  the  dun  mule  docilely  fol- 
lowed, as  of  yore. 

Old  Dan  did  not  glance  back.  He  left  his  rear  to 
the  boys. 

"Give  him  a  good  start.  We'll  wait  till  those  three 
men  get  to  the  top  of  their  hill,  as  we  told  'em  to," 
proposed  Chet  to  Phil,  behind  the  wall. 

Rather  proud  to  be  thus  posted  in  a  responsible 
position — posted  by  such  a  stickler  for  methods  as 
Grizzly  Dan — Phil  silently  nodded.  Steadfast  and 
grim,  rifle  and  carbine  still  at  shoulder,  over  their  rock 
rampart  they  marked  the  progress  of  the  three  men. 

Once,  on  their  retiring  way,  the  three  had  paused 
and  had  looked  behind,  as  if  meditating  a  different 
move.  But  the  sight  of  the  guns  trained,  without 
variation,  upon  them,  seemed  to  exert  a  wholesome 
influence,  and  they  continued. 

Now  they  were  well  toward  the  crest  of  their  hill. 
Old  Dan,  traveling  more  rapidly,  was  well  toward  the 


30  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

top  of  his.  Across  the  rock  wall,  in  the  mid-region 
between  the  two  hills,  lay  the  tumbled  pack  from 
Betty,  and  the  rifle  and  revolver  from  the  Scarred 
Man  and  the  Black  Man  who  had  borne  them. 

"Guess  we  can  go,"  said  Chet,  shortly.  "But  don't 
let  'em  come  down  till  Dan's  ready." 

Skirting  their  side  of  the  wall,  with  sundry  back- 
ward glances  at  the  enemy  they  followed  to  join  Griz- 
zly Dan. 

The  three  men  were  distant  a  far  rifle-shot.  They 
had  halted,  being  almost  to  the  top,  and  were  wait- 
ing. When  the  boys  had  joined  old  Dan,  the  two 
parties  were  separated  more  than  a  rifle  shot. 

"Signal  'em.  Fire  in  the  air,"  ordered  old  Dan,  as 
Phil  and  Chet  came  up,  puffing  and  satisfied.  "Let 
'em  do  what  they  please.  It's  gettin'  late  an'  time 
we  war  makin'  for  camp  an'  pot." 

"Bang-bang!"  rang  out  in  a  double  report  Chet's 
trusty  .30-30  rifle  and  Phil's  equally  trusty  little  .30-30 
carbine  with  the  scarred  stock,  across  the  space  from 
slope  to  slope  signaling  to  the  enemy  that  the  coast 
was  clear  for  them  to  descend  if  they  wished. 

"Plenty,"  quoth  Grizzly  Dan,  not  disposed  to  linger 
and  spy  further  upon  the  actions  of  the  three.  "Won't 
bother  with  'em  any  more.  Their  pack'll  keep  'em 
busy  an'  evenin's  nigh.  We  got  jest  our  own  back 
agin  an'  these  hyar  sacks  o'  specimens  that  they  won't 
think  wuth  fightin'  for,  I  reckon.  Hop  aboard  the  old 
mule,  now.  Sun's  about  sot  an'  this  coon's  meat-bag 
air  plumb  empty  agin." 

He  paused  for  an  instant  while  Chet,  then  Phil, 


A  PRIZE  FROM  THE  ENEMY  31 

clambered  aboard  the  dun  mule.  Betty,  who  had  been 
standing  with  eyes  blissfully  closed  while  she  rested 
her  gray  nose,  with  pensive  pendant  lip,  across  Dan's 
knees,  submitted  to  the  invasion.  Grizzly  Dan  clapped 
his  moccasins  against  his  spotted  pony;  and  with  Chet 
holding  the  rope  cut  by  Dan's  bullet,  and  Phil  holding 
to  Chet,  the  dun  mule  followed  the  pony  over  the 
crest  and  down. 

She  was  a  gaunt  creature;  and  by  the  time  that 
they  had  wound  into  camp  Phil  knew  intimately  every 
one  of  her  back-bone  bumps,  save  those  occupied  by 
Chet. 

Dusk  was  settling  when  at  last,  triumphant,  they 
emerged  into  camp  amidst  the  rock-mass  labyrinth. 
Bonita  and  the  pups  were  rejoiced  at  their  coming; 
Medicine  Eye  and  Pepper  and  Cotton-tail  whinnied, 
as  if  they  had  been  lonesome;  the  spotted  pony  whin- 
nied back,  and  Betty  vented  a  long  bray.  Thus  were 
old  companions  of  the  trail  united  again. 

"Now,"  said  Grizzly  Dan,  busily,  as  Betty  and  the 
spotted  pony  strolled  away  to  roll  and  to  exchange 
nose-touches  with  the  rest  of  the  herd,  "fust  we'll  fill 
meat-bags.  You  fetch  some  wood  an'  I'll  tend  pot. 
After  we  eat,  then  we  can  look  into  these  hyar  sacks 
o'  rock  an'  see  what  the  sign  air." 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON 

SUPPER  consisted  of  the  remnants  of  the  stew — the 
pot  having  been  stocked  with  a  supply  almost  ex- 
haustless,  for  old  Dan  was  a  generous  provider — and 
a  few  strips  of  the  jerked  venison.  The  ore  sacks  at- 
tracted mightily;  after  old  Dan  had  smoked  his  black 
pipe  and  the  boys  had  washed  their  dishes,  the  sacks 
were  opened  and  dumped  into  the  circle  of  the  fire- 
light. 

Old  Dan  calmly  surveyed.  The  boys  bent  over 
eagerly.  The  little  heap  of  rock  fragments  presented 
no  dazzling  sight.  They  were  of  various  colors,  but 
as  a  rule  were  dull.  Old  Dan  picked  out  an  irregular 
chunk  and  turned  it  about,  disclosing  a  face  of  vivid 
green. 

"Copper  stain/'  he  grunted.   "Doesn't  mean  much." 

"Naw;  one  little  trace  of  copper'll  stain  a  whole 
mountain.  Copper  stain's  common,"  declared  Chet, 
wisely. 

"There's  a  whole  lot  of  red  rock  here,"  volunteered 
Phil. 

"Yes;  I  should  say!  No  trouble  to  find  red  rocks 
on  this  mountain,"  agreed  Chet. 

"Only  trouble  air  to  find  the  right  kind,"  reminded 
old  Dan.  "Now,  hyar's  some  red,  which  I  reckon  air 

32 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON  33 

copper  or  iron.  Most  likely  copper,  by  feel  of  it.  It's 
consider 'bly  heavy,  too/' 

"What's  this?"  queried  Phil,  handling  another 
piece.  "This  is  heavy." 

It  was  compact,  and  smoothish  to  the  touch,  and 
black  in  color. 

"Species  of  iron,"  decided  old  Dan.  "That's  mag- 
net rock.  Draws  lightnin'." 

"Like  the  rocks  where  the  lame  man  was  struck 
and  killed !"  exclaimed  Chet,  referring  back  to  a  great 
adventure  on  the  Circle  K  sheep  range. 

"Plenty  iron  in  this  collection,"  mused  old  Dan. 
"Red,  brown,  an'  black  an'  all  kinds.  Mebbe  'tain't 
all  iron,  though.  Now,  p'raps  the  red  those  hostiles 
talked  about  air  in  this  package.  Somethin'  special 
air  wropped  up,  that's  sartin." 

So  speaking,  he  unfolded  a  small  bunch  of  news- 
paper twisted  and  mashed  down  about  some  lumpy 
material.  The  contents  proved  to  be  red  rock  again 
— rock,  in  small  pieces,  rather  crumbly,  and  of  a  red- 
ness like  freshly  burned  brick.  In  fact,  had  it  not 
been  for  their  noticeable  weight,  and  their  pitted, 
powdery  surfaces,  the  pieces  might  have  been  brick. 

The  boys  scrutinized;  old  Dan  squinted,  and 
scratched  his  whiskers. 

"That's  funny  stuff,"  vouchsafed  Chet.  "Wonder 
what  they  thought  it  is." 

"Red  rock,  all  right  enough,"  proffered  Phil,  try- 
ing to  be  original  in  his  remark,  but  not  succeeding. 
"Different  from  the  rest,  too." 

"Must   be    different   or    they    wouldn't    a'    had    it 


34  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

wropped  up  so,"  mused  old  Dan.  "I  airn't  a  miner,  I 
air  a  trapper,  mountain  man,  I  air ;  an'  while  I  can  tell 
prime  beaver  from  pore,  I  can't  tell  prime  ore  from 
pore.  But  I  believe  this  air  more  iron — leastways, 
I'd  say  so  if  'twarn't  laid  apart  as  if  they  war  savin' 
it." 

"How'll  we  find  out,  then?"  demanded  Chet. 
"Doesn't  look  like  gold,  much,  to  me." 

Nor  did  it  to  Phil,  who  was  searching  the  pieces 
for  any  glitter  of  yellow.  To  him,  they  were  dull 
and  disappointing. 

"Wall,  lots  o'  stuff  doesn't  look  like  gold  that  is 
gold,  same  as  in  life.  Can't  alluz  tell  by  outside  what 
may  be  inside,"  answered  Grizzly  Dan.  "But  in  my 
opinion,  which  airn't  wuth  much,  I  do  confess,  this 
passel  o'  red  rock  air  the  nubbin  o'  the  pack.  Else 
why  did  they  save  it  out,  keerful — an'  why  did  they 
talk  of  a  partic'lar  kind  o'  red  rock?  I  sorter  feel 
in  my  bones  that  if  we  hang  on  to  this  rock  an'  look 
for  more  o'  the  same  species,  we'll  be  doin'  our  best. 
This  species  o'  red  rock  air  our  sign,  an'  we  got  to 
trail  it  to  top  o'  mountain,  I  reckon." 

"Aw,  jiminy!"  groaned  Chet.  "What's  one  kind  of 
red  rock  among  all  these  other  red  rocks — a  whole 
mountain  of  'em!" 

"Thar's  no  trail  so  hard  it  can't  be  worked  out,  boy, 
if  we  stick  to  it,"  quoth  old  Dan.  "An'  I'd  hate  to 
say  we  airn't  as  smart  as  those  three  hostiles.  No, 
sir.  If  you'll  take  my  advice  you'll  leave  the  rest  o' 
the  collection  right  hyar,  an'  pin  yore  faith  to  the  sign 
o'  the  red  pieces  we  got  in  our  hands.  If  we  only 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON  35 

had  that  thar  professor  man  along,  who  war  alluz 
pickin'  up  rocks  last  summer,  he  mought  help  us ;  but 
rocks  war  all  he  knew  an'  that  ain't  enough,  in  Injun 
country." 

"What's  the  scheme,  then?"  invited  Chet,  the  prac- 
tical. 

"To-morrow  mornin'  'arly  I'll  take  hos  an'  mule 
an'  go  back  to  cabin  after  my  saddle  an'  meat  I've 
got  cached  away  thar.  You  two  boys  an'  yore  pack- 
animile  will  cut  across  country  an'  meet  me  at  a  spot 
I'll  tell  ye  of.  Then  we'll  climb  the  mountain,  s'archin' 
for  more  o'  the  red  rock  sign,  which  air  float.  Float'll 
lead  us  to  that  thar  mine,  like  as  not,  on  top.  By  the 
leetle  set-down  we've  given  to  those  three  hostiles  we 
ought  to  beat  'em,  in  case  they're  lookin'  for  same 
thing  we  air;  an'  that's  the  Cap'n  Frapp  Mine. 
Wagh!" 

"Wagh !  Bueno,"  approved  Chet. 

"Wagh!   Bueno,"  gravely  concurred  Phil. 

"Now,"  continued  old  Dan,  "we  mought  stuff  some 
o'  this  hyar  red  sign  on  our  pussons,  to  have  it  handy, 
an'  pack  the  balance  o'  what  we  want.  Meantime, 
we'll  go  to  bed.  Got  to  start  'fore  sun-up,  an'  thar's 
a  long  trail  ahead." 

So  to  bed  they  went.  The  fire  flickered  and  died, 
Bonita  and  her  pups,  curled  together  upon  the  foot  of 
the  boys'  buffalo  robe,  shivered  and  snuggled,  Chet 
almost  snored,  and  Phil  dreamed  of  picking  up  so 
much  gold  ore  that  he  couldn't  move  until  every  pocket 
burst,  relieving  him. 

Dan,  indeed,  rose  early.     It  was  nothing  unusual 


36  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

to  have  him  stirring  at  any  hour  of  the  night,  eating 
and  mumbling  and  "making  medicine;"  but  when 
Phil  next  opened  his  eyes,  leaving  his  dream,  it  was 
to  the  realization  that  the  fire  was  crackling,  coffee 
was  fragrantly  simmering,  old  Dan  was  busily  pad- 
ding about,  on  moccasins,  and  the  dawn  was  still  in 
the  gray. 

"Hos-guard  out !"  bade  Grizzly  Dan,  as  Phil  stirred 
and  Chet  protestingly  grunted.  "Round  up  the  crit- 
ters, watch  out  for  hostiles,  then  come  in  an*  eat. 
Time  we  war  takin'  the  trail,  if  we  expect  to  get  any- 
whar  'fore  night." 

Disturbing  the  comfort  of  Bonita  and  family, 
snugly  wedged  between  them,  Phil  rolled  out  on  the 
one  side,  Chet  on  the  other.  They  pulled  on  trousers 
and  shoes,  took  a  hasty  wash  at  the  spring,  and  don- 
ning coats  and  hats,  rope  in  one  hand  and  rifle  in  the 
other  they  stumbled  stiffly  forth,  in  the  grayness 
among  the  rock-masses,  to  catch  the  animals.  Bonita 
like  a  black  shadow  silently  followed;  but  the  sleepy 
pups  cuddled  the  closer  in  the  hollow  that  she  left. 

"Catch  that  mule  and  the  rest  of  'em  will  come 
right  along,"  declared  Chet. 

He  was  right.  When  once  the  dragging  picket-rope 
of  Betty  was  in  hand,  her  companions  yielded  readily ; 
and  with  Chet  leading  Betty  and  the  spotted  pony, 
Phil  leading  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye,  and  Cotton- 
tail docilely  trailing  behind,  the  little  herd  was  brought 
in  to  the  camp-fire,  there  to  be  tied  short. 

"No  use  packin'  along  all  this  hyar  rock,"  declared 
old  Dan,  as  after  breakfast  they  hastily  prepared  for 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON  37 

the  march.  "We  airn't  geologicalists,  I  reckon."  And 
grunting  over  the  tremendous  word  which  he  had 
evolved,  he  discarded  the  greater  portion  of  the  ore- 
sacks'  collection,  retaining  only  what  he  evidently  con- 
sidered of  especial  value. 

This  was  the  brick-like  red  fragments.  He  and  the 
boys  pocketed  each  a  piece  or  two  as  a  sample;  and 
the  remainder,  with  the  well-nigh  empty  ore-sacks, 
was  stowed  upon  Cotton-tail's  pack. 

The  morning  gray  had  lightened,  but  no  pink  had 
yet  appeared,  when  with  old  Dan  guiding,  out  amidst 
the  rock-masses  wended  the  little  cavalcade,  for  new 
camps.  Riding  with  raw-hide  hackamore  and  buffalo- 
robe  pad,  his  precious  pot  slung  upon  his  back,  old 
Dan  again  bestrode  his  beloved  spotted  pony.  Betty 
the  dun  mule  followed,  traveling  light.  Then  came 
the  boys  and  Cotton-tail,  and  Bonita  and  the  pups. 

From  the  rock-masses  they  climbed  among  low 
boulders  and  bushes,  until  upon  a  high  place  old  Dan 
halted.  The  east  was  now  glowing.  Around  about 
and  below  stretched  dimly  the  vast  slopes  and  levels 
of  Lost  Park;  distant  in  the  east,  outlined  against  the 
glow,  slumbered  mighty  Warrior  Peak;  close  at  hand, 
on  the  west,  rose  ruddy  the  huge  naked  trunk  and 
crown  of  Red  Chief.  They  were  about  at  his 
knees. 

Old  Dan  pointed.  "You  travel  straight  north, 
along  this  hyar  ridge,  for  two  hours,  until  it  forks. 
You  follow  down  alongside  left-hand  fork,  by  old  trail 
you'll  find,  till  you  come  to  a  stream,  an'  you  follow 
up  that  stream  till  you  come  to  a  nice  little  park,  with 


38  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

a  blasted  pine;  thar's  whar  I'll  jine  ye  when  sun  air 
three  quarters  down  in  the  west." 

Chet  and  Phil  listened  closely.  They  knew  better 
than  to  ask  questions;  so  when  he  had  finished  they 
nodded,  to  show  that  they  understood,  and  lifting  his 
hand  in  salute  he  rode  away.  For  a  moment  they 
watched  him,  as  upon  his  spotted  pony,  Betty  the  mule 
close  in  his  wake,  he  descended  the  ridge,  bound 
straight  for  Warrior  Peak  and  the  cabin  there.  Then 
they  turned,  to  ride  at  right  angles  along  the  ridge 
which  skirted  the  towering  trunk  of  Red  Chief. 
Bonita,  having  gazed  perplexed  after  old  Dan,  turned 
with  them  and  came  trotting  on. 

Swiftly  the  sun  rose,  surging  above  the  gigantic 
sleeping  brave  and  with  golden  beams  flooding  the 
wild  world  of  Lost  Park.  Speaking  but  little  and 
seeing  much,  the  boys  continued,  making  their  trail 
according  to  Grizzly  Dan's  directions. 

Up  here  nothing  stirred,  except  an  occasional  rab- 
bit hopping  hole-ward  to  sleep  until  evening.  Red 
Chief  up-lifted  burly  and  tall,  silently  guarding  the 
west  as  Warrior  guarded  the  east.  Away  at  his  crest 
was  clearly  limned  the  white  cross;  and  somewhere 
near  the  white  cross  must  be  the  Frapp  mine. 

The  ridge  was  rocky  but  open,  affording  a  fine  out- 
look. Threading  by  the  easiest  route,  the  boys  could 
scan,  now  the  mountain  slope,  and  now  the  valley  be- 
low. Old  Dan  had  disappeared  in  a  patch  of  timber 
which  extended,  one  might  think,  clear  to  the  cabin; 
and  nowhere,  on  either  hand,  high  or  low,  could  be 
seen  a  moving  figure.  That  was  good.  Perhaps  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON  39 

three  hostiles,  as  Dan  called  them,  had  quit  for  a 
time.  If  so,  again  good.  Anyway,  they  were  not  up 
on  the  mountain,  hereabouts. 

"Great,  isn't  it!"  remarked  Chet,  quietly,  over  his 
shoulder  to  Phil. 

"I  should  say,"  responded  Phil,  as  quietly. 

And  "great"  it  was,  to  be  here,  high  amidst  the 
fresh  morning  in  the  untracked  open,  where  one  was 
a  brother  to  mountain  and  valley,  shrub  and  rock  and 
tree. 

Sure  enough,  as  old  Dan  had  predicted,  when  the 
sun  was  two  hours  above  the  horizon  the  ridge  split; 
keeping  to  the  left  fork  Chet  began  a  gradual  descent; 
Phil  and  Cotton-tail  and  the  dogs  (the  pups  now 
sobered  and  panting)  filed  behind. 

"Here's  the  old  trail,"  called  back  Chet.  "Leads 
to  water,  I  reckon." 

It  was  a  faint  trail,  as  if  rarely  traversed;  and  be- 
cause Grizzly  Dan  knew  of  it,  it  probably  was  some 
ancient  trapper  and  Indian  trail.  The  two  forks  rap- 
idly widened.  Below,  a  slender  line  of  aspens  and 
willows,  lighter  green  than  the  customary  pines,  be- 
tokened a  water-course.  That  must  be  the  stream. 
Beyond  it,  across,  swelled  another  divide,  red  and  tim- 
berless. 

So  down  the  inside  of  the  left-hand  fork  of  the 
ridge  plunged  the  two  boys,  pursuing  the  remnants 
of  the  old  trail.  Suddenly  Chet  reined  in  Medicine 
Eye  and  pointed. 

"There's  somebody,"  he  said.  "See?  Going  up 
along  the  stream.  Man  and  hawss — pack-hawss." 


40  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Phil's  eyes  leaped  to  the  mark.  Where  the  ridge 
fell  away  and  met  the  valley  the  willows  and  aspens 
grew  intermittently;  and  wending  among  them  was 
the  small  figure  of  a  man,  afoot,  with  a  pack-animal 
close  behind  him.  Only  a  brief  glimpse  was  given, 
for  in  a  moment  both  man  and  animal  had  passed 
from  sight,  as  if  they  might  have  been  rounding  the 
foot  of  the  ridge. 

"Can't  be  old  Dan,  beating  us  to  it,"  hazarded  Phil. 

"No,"  pronounced  Chet.  "Don't  see  his  spotted 
pony,  and  didn't  look  like  him,  anyway.  Might  be 
one  of  those  hostiles,  though.  Shucks !  We'd  better 
go  slow  till  we  find  out." 

"Shucks!"  echoed  Phil.  "This  country's  getting 
mighty  small." 

"It  shore  is,"  agreed  Chet,  wisely.  "Too  many 
people.  Wagh!" 

"Wagh!"  agreed  Phil. 

It  seemed  to  them  that  they  owned  this  immense 
park  (which  they  didn't),  and  that  they  especially 
owned  this  great  mountain  (which  they  didn't) ;  and 
they  wanted  nobody  else  in  here. 

With  eyes  keen  to  the  front,  searching  the  locality 
where  the  mysterious  man  and  his  pack-animal  had 
disappeared,  they  continued  on  down.  The  stream 
gradually  drew  nearer,  as  they  gradually  dropped 
lower,  and  after  an  hour's  ride  they  began  to  hear 
its  pleasant  tinkle. 

With  gesture  of  hand  Chet  changed  direction,  and 
obliqued  to  the  left,  to  round  the  foot  of  the  ridge. 
Phil  understood.  They  would  keep  back  from  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON  41 

stream  a  little,  and  climbing  the  slight  point  would 
obtain  a  good  view  of  the  country  on  the  other  side, 
and  perhaps  a  sight  of  the  man. 

It  was  a  small  stream,  gurgling  as  it  ran  red  over 
red  sand  and  gravel.  Not  a  bird  twittered;  not  a 
token  of  native  life  was  present.  The  brick  hue  of 
the  water  and  the  utter  silence  save  for  the  musical 
voice  of  the  current  made  the  lonely  valley  a  place 
strange  and  weird. 

Chet  again  pointed,  this  time  down  beside  him. 

"More  sign,"  he  warned,  in  cautious  tone.  "Tracks." 

Phil  nodded.  Round  hoof  tracks  were  imprinted, 
now  and  then,  in  the  yielding  red  sand  amidst  the 
rocks  and  stunted  grasses  over  which  they  were  riding. 

"Burro,"  he  volunteered. 

Chet  also  nodded. 

"Somebody's  been  gophering,  too,"  he  informed. 
"Look  at  the  hole.  Prospector — more  prospector,  I 
reckon.  Wagh!  Pore  business." 

"Bad,"  growled  Phil.  "Don't  like  it.  Too  much 
hostiles." 

Yes,  as  they  rode  they  had  come  upon  a  small  hole, 
freshly  opened,  as  if  somebody  had  been  attracted  to 
stop  and  peck  a  few  strokes  with  a  pick  or  a  spade. 

Other  "gopher"  signs  succeeded.  They  seemed  to 
occur  with  no  especial  system,  except  that  they  usually 
marked  where  a  small  ledge  outcropped,  or  the  base 
of  low  walls  where  the  dirt  had  been  washed  loose,  or 
vari-colored  streaks  which  occasionally  appeared  on 
the  surface  of  the  prevailing  red.  None  of  the  holes 
was  deep;  they  all  were  casual,  where  the  passer-by 


42  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

had  been  attracted  a  moment,  to  investigate  some  spot 
that  struck  his  experienced  eye,  and  then  had  con- 
tinued on. 

The  voice  of  the  stream,  which  had  been  tinkling, 
began  to  increase  in  volume,  indicating  rough  waters 
above.  Sure  enough,  where  the  foot  of  the  ridge 
ended,  there  was  the  mouth  of  a  miniature  gorge. 
Boiling  out,  rilling  the  mouth,  the  stream  sang  loudly ; 
and  Chet  veered  aside,  to  look  in.  So  did  Phil. 

Yes,  it  was  indeed  a  gorge.  Far  down  was  the 
stream,  pent  between  the  red  rock  walls  and  dashing 
among  jagged  boulders.  The  sunlight  illuminated  the 
depths,  giving  the  effect  of  a  fire  glow.  The  scene  was 
wild  and  beautiful;  but  of  more  interest  than  the  dash- 
ing stream  and  the  ruddy  walls  was  the  figure  of  a 
man  busily  at  work  by  the  stream  in  the  very  bottom 
of  the  canon.  Near  him  stood  patiently  a  packed  burro ; 
so  it  was  the  man  whom  they  had  been  trailing.  He 
was  squatting  at  the  stream  edge,  holding  something 
in  his  two  hands  and  twirling  it  with  a  circular  motion. 

"How  do  you  suppose  he  got  down  in  there?"  de- 
manded Chet.  "He  didn't  ride  up  that  current." 

"Shouldn't  think  so,"  answered  Phil.  They  could 
talk  freely,  for  the  noise  by  the  stream  covered  their 
voices.  "Must  have  got  in  from  above." 

"Well,  we'll  find  out,"  said  Chet,  stubbornly.  "I 
want  to  know  who  he  is  and  what  he's  trying  to  do. 
Come  on." 

The  burro  tracks  were  faintly  visible  to  them  as 
they  resumed  their  trail;  consequently  the  man  had 
crossed  the  foot  of  the  ridge.  On  their  way,  again 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CANON  43 

they  turned  aside  to  peer  down  in.  The  man  had 
changed  position — and  was  picking  a  course  upstream, 
his  burro  following  like  a  dog.  He  looked  small, 
down  against  the  rush  of  waters  pent  between  the  high 
red  walls. 

Bonita,  venturing  too  close,  and  craning  curiously, 
dislodged  a  rock  fragment;  and  away  it  went,  bound- 
ing and  rattling,  gathering  other  fragments  and  dirt, 
to  the  bottom  of  the  gorge.  Chet  and  Phil  exclaimed 
disgustedly ;  Bonita  slunk  back,  ashamed ;  and  the  man 
below  quickly  looked  up. 

He  saw  the  party  high  above  him,  on  the  canon 
edge,  and  waved  his  hand  and  continued  trudging 
along — he  and  his  burro  slipping  and  staggering  and 
leaping  from  stepping-stone  to  stepping-stone. 

"Reckon  he's  coming  out  the  way  he  went  in,"  quoth 
Chet.  "Here,  Bonita!  You  keep  back.  If  one  of 
those  rocks  should  land  on  him,  it  would  go  right 
through  him." 

The  walls  of  the  canon  lowered,  as  the  foot  of  the 
ridge,  which  they  were  crossing,  fell  away  on  the 
farther  slope.  They  reached  the  level,  and  looking 
over  a  low  gravelly  bank  which  was  the  very  com- 
mencement of  the  canon  they  saw  within  a  few  yards 
of  them  the  man  and  his  burro  just  leaving  the  depths. 
The  man  carried  on  his  shoulder  a  pick,  in  his  hand 
a  shallow  pan.  He  stopped,  pecked  at  the  gravel  of 
the  bank,  caught  some  in  his  pan,  and  squatting  to 
fill  the  pan  with  water  he  again  twirled  the  pan  with 
circular  motion. 

After    brief   examination    of    what    happened,    he 


44  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

threw  away  the  contents  of  the  pan,  and  looking  up  at 
the  boys  climbed  the  bank.  This  he  did,  on  all  fours, 
by  help  of  the  pick;  the  burro,  ears  pricked,  observing 
him,  also  climbed,  with  a  series  of  cat-like  jumps,  bear- 
ing the  pack  gallantly.  On  top  he  shook  himself,  eyed 
the  boys  and  their  animals,  and  stretching  his  neck 
uttered  a  long,  vigorous,  triumphant  "Hee-haw !" 
Pepper,  Medicine  Eye,  and  Cotton-tail  stared,  round- 
ly; the  pups  barked. 


CHAPTER   IV 

FLAPJACK    JIM    JOINS   THE   PARTY 

THE  man  came  on.  He  was  a  little  man,  with  a 
wooden  stump  instead  of  a  right  leg.  Yes,  he  was  a 
little  man,  but  a  nimble  little  man  despite  his  peg.  He 
wore  a  battered  black  hat,  blue  flannel  shirt,  suspen- 
ders, corduroy  trousers,  and  a  laced  boot;  and  all  his 
garb  was  plentifully  spattered  and  daubed  with  soil. 
His  face  was  small,  round  and  red,  and  like  a  withered 
apple  meshed  with  a  multitude  of  wrinkles,  out  from 
which  peeped  a  pair  of  beady  blue  eyes.  The  hair 
beneath  the  hat  on  his  bullet-like  head  was  short  and 
carroty,  and  carroty  would  have  been  mustache  or 
whiskers;  but  he  was  shaven,  after  a  manner. 

"Hello,  boys,"  he  greeted,  with  another  wave  of 
his  hand,  as  stumping  briskly  he  arrived.  "Top  o' 
the  mornin'  to  yez — or  'most  noon,  mightn't  it  be?" 

"Same  to  you,"  answered  Chet;  and  Phil  joined 
with  "Howdy?" 

"Well,  an*  how's  tricks?"  pursued  the  man,  geni- 
ally, with  quick  survey,  by  his  twinkling  beady  eyes, 
of  the  pack  on  Cotton-tail.  "Prospectin',  too,  are  yez  ? 
Good  luck  to  yez." 

"Same  to  you,"  again  responded  Chet,  and  Phil  as 
well.  The  little  man's  good  nature  was  not  to  be 
resisted.  "Find  anything  down  in  the  canon?" 

"Oh,  a  color;  jist  a  trace  o'  color."  By  accent  the 

45 


46  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

little  man  was  Irish.  "An'  this."  Leaning  his  pick 
against  him,  from  his  pocket  he  extracted  a  small, 
irregular  pebble,  blackish  and  pitted  and  twisted,  not 
unlike  a  molten  cinder.  He  handed  it  to  Phil. 

Phil  examined  it,  but  could  make  nothing  of ,  it. 
Chet  took  it.  The  little  man  watched,  his  beady  blue 
eyes  alert. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Chet  boldly.    "Ore?" 

"Ore !"  laughed  the  little  man,  much  amused.  "Ah, 
an*  great  prospectors  be  yez,  to  ask  the  question! 
Maybe  ye'd  call  it  ore,  but  it's  a  nugget,  or  perhaps 
now  it's  a  nodule;  I  dunno.  Anyways,  it's  gould." 

"Real  gold?"  demanded  Phil,  excited.  "A  gold 
nugget?  How  do  you  know ?"  He  examined  it  again. 

"Here,  an'  here,"  showed  the  little  man,  now  taking 
the  pebble  to  himself,  and  with  thumb-nail  scratching 
at  it.  He  disclosed,  in  the  cracks,  to  the  boys  peering 
down,  gleams  of  yellow.  "By  the  heft  of  it  yez  might 
guess,  an'  by  the  place  it  was  found." 

"A  gold  nugget!"  The  words  breathed  of  magic 
and  romance;  they  had  a  large  sound. 

"Did  you  find  it  in  the  canon?"  queried  Chet. 
"How  much  is  it  worth?" 

"Sure,  an'  I  washed  it  out  jist  before  you  come 
along,"  informed  the  little  man,  amiably.  "  'Tain't 
worth  much — tin  dollars  or  so.  But  that's  all  I  got. 
JTis  har-rd  to  resist  a  shake  o'  the  pan,  when  wan 
passes  sand  an'  gravel.  If  I  had  a  dime  for  ivery 
shake  o'  the  pan  or  a  penny  for  ivery  shtroke  o'  the 
pick  I've  made,  wouldn't  I  be  'atin'  quail  on  toast 
instid  o'  beans  an'  bacon!" 


FLAPJACK  JIM  JOINS  THE  PARTY     47 

"You  must  be  an  old-timer,  then,"  invited  Phil. 

"Ould  enough  to  know  better,  after  fifty  years  on 
the  prospect  trail,  my  boy.  Ould  enough  to  be  sittin' 
'mongst  my  children  an'  grandchildren,  'stid  o'  kapin' 
comp'ny  mostly  with  a  burro.  But  when  wance  you 
get  to  wanderin',  'tis  difficult  to  quit.  Maybe,"  he 
said,  puckering  his  already  puckered  face,  as  he  eyed 
them  shrewdly,  "you  be  after  the  same  mine  I  am — 
up  yonder  on  the  tip-top  o'  the  mountain." 

So  here  was  another  rival! 

"There's  a  mine  up  there,  then,  you've  heard?" 
asked  Chet,  noncommittal. 

"Ah,  now,  yez  needn't  be  afraid  o'  me,  lads,"  as- 
sured the  little  man.  "  'Tis  a  big  mountain,  an'  a  big 
world,  an'  I  won't  crowd  yez.  Anywan  who's  been 
minin'  for  as  long  as  I  have  knows  all  about  lost 
mines.  Sure,  the  country's  full  o'  lost  mines;  an' 
they're  all  the  same.  Nobody  finds  'em.  Thirty  year 
ago  I  heared  o'  this  trapper  mine;  but  somehow  I 
never  got  fairly  shtarted  for  it,  until  now.  I  was 
thinkin',"  he  added,  rather  wistfully,  "that  belike  if 
you  was  figgerin'  on  thryin'  the  mountain  we  might 
work  along  together.  Who  knows  but  I've  learned 
somethin'  o'  prospectin'  that  yez  haven't,  bein'  as  yez 
seem  young  yit;  an'  faith,  if  we  find  any  thin'  we'll 
share  an'  share  alike.  If  we  find  a  mine  it'll  be  enough 
for  three  or  it  won't  be  enough  for  wan." 

He  waited,  patiently,  eying  them;  and  about  him 
was  an  air  so  appealing,  and  so  honest,  and  what 
he  said  sounded  so  reasonable,  that  with  a  glance  at 
Chet  Phil  replied  gladly: 


48  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"All  right.  Sure  thing.  We  don't  know  much 
about  prospecting.  Let's  throw  in  together ;  shall  we, 
Chet?" 

"I'm  willing,"  said  Chet.  "If  Dan  doesn't 
object." 

"Well,  he  doesn't  know  much  about  prospecting, 
either,"  argued  Phil.  "And  I  don't  believe  he'd  ob- 
ject. This  hunting  red  rock  on  a  red  mountain  is  quite 
a  job." 

"The  rid  float,  is  it,  you've  found?"  queried  the 
little  man. 

"Yes;  here,"  proffered  Phil,  impulsively  handing 
over  a  bit  from  his  store  of  samples. 

The  little  man  took  it  into  horny  palm  (which  of 
the  two  middle  fingers  possessed  only  the  first  joints) 
and  turned  it  over  and  over — weighing  it,  rubbing 
it,  and  wetting  it  with  his  tongue.  He  squinted  at 
it  through  a  small  pocket  microscope. 

"Have  yez  much  o'  the  same?"  he  asked. 

"Some,"  replied  Chet,  shortly. 

"Then  I'll  show  yez."  And  dropping  his  pick,  the 
little  man  went  hopping  down  into  the  creek  bed 
again.  Here  he  knelt.  Grinding  the  bit  of  float  be- 
tween his  calloused  palms,  he  reduced  it  to  a  powder 
which  he  poured  into  the  shallow  pan  that  he  carried. 
Now  he  dipped  some  water;  and  while  the  boys,  and 
horses,  and  the  Bonita  family  gazed  interested  (the 
burro  standing  lop-eared  and  bored,  as  accustomed 
to  such  proceedings),  he  agitated  the  pan  so  that  the 
fluid  swirled  and  overflowed. 

Presently  the  little  man  came  hopping  up,  as  nimbly 


FLAPJACK  JIM  JOINS  THE  PARTY     49 

as  he  had  hopped  down.  He  extended  the  pan  to  the 
two  boys.  It  was  about  a  foot  and  a  half  in  diameter, 
and  five  or  six  inches  deep — resembling  a  copper  milk- 
pan.  The  reddish  powder,  of  the  float  fragment,  had 
been  washed  out  by  the  water,  and  in  the  angle  of 
bottom  and  side  glittered  a  slender  thread  of  yellow. 

"Looks  like  gold,"  blurted  Chet. 

"Looks  like  it,  lad!"  reproved  the  little  man. 
"Faith,  an'  if  you'd  gazed  at  the  same  as  often  as  I 
have  yez  wouldn't  be  insultin'  it  with  doubts.  It's 
the  rale  stuff;  an'  I'd  ask  nothin'  better  than  pannin' 
out  si  viral  ton  of  it — though  I'd  rather  play  hog  an' 
use  the  hose,  bein'  quicker." 

"Do  you  think  it's  worth  following  up,  then?"  ven- 
tured Phil. 

"Well,"  said  the  little  man,  "I've  lost  wan  leg  fol- 
lowin'  liss,  an'  now  I'm  riskin'  the  other  for  this  very 
cause.  Ain't  it  quare  how  foolish  a  man  gets,  jist  for 
gould?  Wan  piece  o'  the  rid  I  picked  up,  myself,  a 
day  or  two  back,  an'  it  made  me  crazy  like.  That  was 
across  the  ridge,  yonder;  but  I  sighted  three  other 
men  ahead  o'  me,  lookin'  as  if  they  were  prospectin' 
on  before;  so  I  changed  over  to  this  side." 

"Three  men,  with  horses?  One  man  cross-eyed?" 
exclaimed  Phil,  quickly. 

"With  a  pinto  and  a  mule  as  led  animals?"  added 
Chet. 

"More'n  I  know,  my  lads,"  confessed  the  little 
man.  "But  there  were  three,  har-rd  at  work.  So  I 
let  'em  go.  It's  a  big  mountain." 

"They're  the  same  three,  all  right,"  asserted  Chet 


50  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

to  Phil.  "When  did  you  see  them?"  he  inquired  of 
the  little  man. 

"Well,  now,  an'  maybe  it  was  yisterday;  an'  from 
the  top  o'  the  ridge  I  saw  them  agin  this  mornin'," 
answered  the  little  man. 

"Prospecting?" 

"Prospectin',"  nodded  the  little  man. 

Chet  gazed  at  Phil,  and  Phil  gazed  at  Chet;  and 
each  muttered:  "Humph!" 

"So  it's  a  race,  with  a  big  shtake,"  continued  the 
little  man,  cheerfully.  "An'  may  fortune  bless  the 
winners.  Tin  thousand  dollars  or  more  to  the  ton, 
in  gould,  will  this  rid  stuff  o'  yourn  run,  if  it's  like 
your  sample,  an'  mine;  an'  if  we  might  but  be 
so  powerful  lucky  as  to  find  a  hundred  tons,  then 
we  all  could  buy  a  Christmas  turkey.  By  your  lave 
I'll  be  savin'  what  we've  got,  anyhow — as  a 
shtarter." 

So  saying,  he  fished  from  his  pocket  a  small  buck- 
skin sack  tied  by  a  draw-string  at  the  mouth ;  and  into 
it  he  carefully  scraped  the  tiny  amount  in  the  pan. 
The  sack  slightly  bulged  at  the  bottom;  therefore  it 
had  not  been  empty.  The  little  man  retied  the  sack 
and  slipped  it  back  again. 

"Have  you  found  any  float  in  around  here?"  asked 
Phil,  anxiously. 

"Not  yit;  but  I'm  thinkin'  we  will  a  little  farther 
up.  There's  color  in  the  creek,  only  the  current  runs 
so  mortal  swift  it  scours  the  banks  clean.  When  we 
get  on  the  mountain-side  a  bit  more,  we'll  find  what 
we're  lookin'  for.  If  we  don't  we'll  smile  an'  try 


FLAPJACK  JIM  JOINS  THE  PARTY      51 

somewheres  else.  It's  a  big  mountain,  an'  a  foine 
wan." 

"Guess  we'd  better  be  moving,"  uttered  Chet,  busi- 
nesslike. "Got  to  meet  our  partner,  up  the  trail. 
Come  along,  if  you  want  to." 

"Sure,  an'  I  will  that,"  answered  the  little  man. 
"Lade  ahead;  I'll  kape  yez  in  sight." 

Without  another  word  Chet  wakened  Medicine 
Eye  into  a  walk,  and  proceeded  on  up  the  stream. 
Phil  fell  behind.  The  cavalcade  lengthened  out.  It 
seemed  to  Phil  that  he  ought  to  have  dismounted  and 
put  the  little  man  (the  cheerful  little  man  with  the  one 
leg)  into  the  saddle;  but  glancing  back  he  witnessed 
the  little  man  bravely  pegging  away,  pick  over  shoulder 
and  pan  under  arm,  driving  his  burro  at  the  rear  of 
the  procession. 

Ten  thousand  dollars  to  the  ton!  Phil  began  to 
think  again  upon  this.  Ten  thousand  dollars  to  the 
ton !  And  if  the  red  float  was  a  fair  sample,  one  hun- 
dred tons  would  mean  one  million  dollars !  Whew ! 
Even  divided  among  four,  it  would  be  worth  the  find- 
ing. Again  whew! 

"There's  Dan,  already!"  called  back  Chet.  "Either 
he's  early  or  we're  late." 

By  the  sun  they  weren't  late.  However,  old  Dan  it 
must  be,  sitting  with  long  rifle  across  knees,  near  a 
single  pine  trunk  in  a  grassy  basin  beside  the  stream, 
while  near  him  browsed  the  spotted  pony  and  the  dun 
mule,  under  saddle  and  pack. 

As  the  boys  approached,  Grizzly  Dan  laughed  his 
silent  laugh.  Bonita  and  the  pups  rushed  joyously 


52  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

forward.  Cotton-tail  whinnied  to  the  dun  mule,  and 
the  dun  mule  only  cropped  the  more  busily.  But 
when  the  burro  loudly  hee-hawed,  the  dun  mule  stared 
and  the  spotted  pony  snorted,  as  if  wondering  what 
had  come. 

"Are  we  late?"  queried  Chet,  as  Grizzly  Dan  stood. 

"No.  I  air  'arly,  a  bit.  Who  you  got  thar,  on  be- 
hind?" 

"He  air  a  prospector,  wagh!"  grunted  Chet,  in  ap- 
proved white  Injun  talk.  "Met  him  panning  gold  in 
the  creek.  He  wants  to  throw  in  with  us." 

"He's  been  prospecting  fifty  years,"  added  Phil, 
anxiously,  for  he  liked  the  little  man.  "He  knows 
about  the  mine,  too.  Maybe  he  can  help  us." 

"Knows  about  it,  does  he?"  mumbled  old  Dan, 
striding  forward. 

The  little  man  pegged  briskly  up — apple  face  red, 
pick  over  shoulder,  pan  under  arm. 

"How  air  ye,  stranger?"  greeted  old  Dan.  "The 
boys  say  you  want  to  pitch  yore  lodge  with  ourn.  My 
name's  Grizzly  Dan.  What  mought  be  yourn?" 

"They  call  me  Flapjack  Jim,"  announced  the  little 
man.  "Lemme  see.  Guess  I  met  you  wance  in  Fifty- 
eight,  in  Snake  River  country,  Idyho." 

"So  you  did,  so  you  did,"  assured  Grizzly  Dan, 
highly  pleased.  "Wagh !  That  war  when  you  miners 
'most  got  wiped  out  by  the  Pelouse  Injuns,  for  bein' 
whar  you'd  no  right  to  be,  an'  the  soldiers  war 
ordered  in,  an'  us  trapper  scouts.  I  nigh  lost 
my  ha'r  that  time.  The  trail  war  hotter'n  a 
fryin'  pan." 


FLAPJACK  JIM  JOINS  THE  PARTY      53 

"  'Twas  a  foine  country,  barrin'  the  Injuns,  an* 
snow  an'  little  wather  an'  not  much  to  ate,"  mused 
Flapjack  Jim.  "But  I  didn't  shtay  there.  Hi!"  he 
shouted,  at  a  sudden  commotion  among  the  animals. 
"Lave  be,  Brownie!  Lave  be!  Can't  you  be  p'ace- 
able,  now?" 

For  the  burro,  who  had  been  standing,  ears  drooped, 
eyes  half  closed,  as  if  in  a  doze,  had  made  a  sudden 
vicious  rush  and  had  occupied  the  choice  grass  patch 
just  being  enjoyed  by  Cotton-tail.  Cotton-tail,  sur- 
prised and  alarmed,  retreated  and  sought  for  another 
spot. 

"Hee-haw!"  sang  the  burro,  triumphantly,  and 
dozed  again. 

"Look  at  that,  will  yuh!"  exclaimed  Chet  to  Phil. 
"He's  going  to  be  boss  o'  the  herd,  all  right." 

"He's  a  wee  baste,  but  he's  terrible  big  in  a  fight," 
responded  Flapjack  Jim.  "Yez  wouldn't  think  it, 
what  a  timper  he's  got." 

"Off  packs,  off  packs ;  unsaddle  an'  make  yoreselves 
at  home,"  spoke  Grizzly  Dan,  impatiently.  "This  is 
good  campin'  place,  an'  it  air  pot  time.  Aren't  ye  all 
wolfish?  Hyar's  a  coon  who's  most  gone  beaver,  his 
meat-bag  air  so  plumb  empty.  He  can't  travel  till  he's 
filled  up.  Besides,  we'd  better  make  prospectin'  plans, 
'fore  we  go  ahead.  Those  thar  hostiles  air  close 
about." 

"How'd  you  happen  to  get  here  so  soon, 
Dan?"  asked  Phil,  as  all  proceeded  to  strip  the 
animals. 

"I  tell  'ee,  cause  those  thar  hostiles  air  close  about. 


54  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

On  the  way  to  cabin  I  sighted  'em,  across  yonder;  an* 
I  made  my  own  trail,  I  did,  loaded  the  cache,  an' 
arrove  hyar  pronto  with  meat  an'  possibles." 

"Flapjack  Jim  saw  them,  too.  They  were  prospect- 
ing, on  the  other  side  of  that  ridge,  opposite,  he  says. 
Saw  them  this  morning." 

"Sartin,"  nodded  Grizzly  Dan.  "That's  whar  they 
air,  hard  at  work." 

"Well,"  quoth  Chet,  sturdily,  "we  can  beat  'em,  all 
right." 

"Sure  we  can,"  declared  Flapjack  Jim.  "We'll 
make  a  big  shtrike,  an'  we'll  all  be  rich  as  Croesuses." 

"Pot  on  the  fire,"  hinted  Grizzly  Dan.  "Fust  fill 
meat-bags;  then  talk." 

"Faith,  I  can  talk  an'  ate  at  the  same  time,"  laughed 
Flapjack  Jim.  "Arrah,  Brownie!  What  for  yez  be 
so  ill-timpered ?  Ain't  there  grass  enough  for  all? 
Would  yez  be  a  claim- jumper?" 

The  burro,  unpacked,  with  another  sudden  sally, 
ears  back  and  mouth  open,  had  charged  the  dun  mule 
— and  Betty,  amazed,  had  given  way.  Whereupon 
Brownie  hee-hawed  at  length. 

The  sun  sank  swiftly,  and  meeting  the  crest  of 
Red  Chief  disappeared  there  before  the  evening  was 
due.  However,  the  camp  soon  settled  itself;  packs 
had  been  opened,  bedding  spread,  under  Dan's  brass 
pot  suspended  from  a  forked  stake  the  fire  blazed  and 
crackled,  and  from  the  rim  of  the  pot  eddied  the  usual 
fragrant  steam.  Bonita  and  the  four  pups  lay  asleep. 
At  pasture  the  burro  continued  to  boss  the  other  ani- 
mals about,  and  seize  on  the  best  grass  or  what  he 


FLAPJACK  JIM  JOINS  THE  PARTY      55 

thought  might  be  the  best  grass.  Flapjack  Jim  at- 
tended to  the  coffee. 

In  the  twilight  old  Dan  pronounced  the  supper 
ready. 

"They  call  me  Flapjack  Jim,  becuz  I  can  toss  a  flap- 
jack up  the  chimley  of  a  cabin,  from  inside,  an'  ketch 
it,  nicely  turned,  outside,"  explained  the  little  man, 
as  they  all  sat,  eating.  "In  the  mornin'  I'll  show  yez. 
There  be  nothin'  equal  to  flapjacks,  to  line  the  stomick 
with,  for  a  day's  work;  an'  praise  be,  I've  got  the 
makin's." 

"That  sounds  good,"  praised  Phil.  "Flapjacks! 
Hurrah!" 

"Wagh !  Flapjacks  or  buff'ler  meat,  for  this  chile," 
grunted  Chet. 

Nevertheless,  interesting  although  the  topic  might 
be,  of  more  importance  was  the  morrow's  trail.  So, 
after  supper,  while  the  firelight  succeeded  the  twilight, 
crouched  under  blankets  around  the  blaze  they  dis- 
cussed ways  and  means. 

"I've  dhramed  it  all,"  asserted  Flapjack  Jim.  "I've 
dhramed  o'  matin'  yez,  an'  of  the  cross  on  the  peak, 
yonder,  an'  of  the  rid  float,  an'  of  this  shtrame,  an' 
all.  An'  by  token  o'  the  same  there's  a  foine  bonanza 
waitin'  for  us  up  yon." 

"Do  your  dreams  come  true?"  asked  Phil. 

"Not  always  the  way  I  dhrame  'em,"  confessed 
Flapjack  Jim.  "Sometimes  part  of  'em  come  true, 
but  I  niver  know  which  part  will  it  be.  Jist  the  same, 
I've  dhramed  o'  bein'  right  here  with  yez  all,  an'  of  a 
peak  bristlin'  with  gould  so  thick  we  chopped  it  off 


56  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

with  a  hatchet  an'  sint  it  to  the  mint.  Now  here's  part 
o'  the  dhrame  true  alriddy — an'  like  as  not  the  other 
part  '11  come  true,  too.  I'm  foriver  dhramin'  o'  lost 
mines,  an'  it's  time  I  found  wan,  after  fifty  years 
searchin'." 

Grizzly  Dan  nodded. 

"Mebbe  if  we  dance  a  leetle  medicine  it'll  cl'ar  the 
trail  for  'ee,"  he  proposed.  "What  do  ye  make  o'  the 
float?" 

"That  rid  float  is  an  iron  oxide,"  declared  Flapjack 
Jim.  "Gould  comes  put  up  in  all  sorts  o'  colors, — rid, 
black,  pink,  crimson,  yellow,  white,  brown,  purple, 
gray, — dependin'  on  what  other  minerals  form  the 
rock  that  carries  it;  an'  the  same  mineral  has  different 
color  accordin'  to  wather  an'  heat  an'  the  mixture  it's 
put  into.  Sometimes  you  can  see  the  gould — the  yel- 
low gould — speckin'  the  rock;  an'  agin  you  can't  see 
it  till  it's  been  trated  out  by  roastin'  or  by  chimicals, 
or  washed  in  the  pan.  Now,  this  rid  float  is  an  iron 
oxide,  which  is  to  say  'tis  an  iron  ore  rusted  by  the 
oxygen  o'  the  air;  an'  it  carries  gould,  a  free  gould, 
separate  an'  distinct,  so  all  we  need  to  do  is  to  wash 
it  loose.  Faith,  'tis  a  beautiful  way.  How  the  gould 
gets  in,  I  do  not  say,  but  'twas  put  there,  when  the 
wor-rld  was  young  yit,  by  gas  an'  shtame  an'  wather; 
an'  man  has  been  thryin'  iver  since  to  get  it  out,  an* 
turn  it  to  many  uses,  good  an'  bad." 

"But  if  you  don't  see  the  gold,  how  do  you  know 
it's  there?"  asked  the  practical  Chet. 

"How  do  yez  know  it's  there!  How  do  yez  know 
it's  there!"  repeated  the  little  man.  "Well,  an'  you 


FLAPJACK  JIM  JOINS  THE  PARTY     57 

don't.  Quite  often  it  be  there  when  you  don't  think 
it's  there,  an'  agin  it  don't  be  there  when  yez  think  it 
is  there.  'Tis  as  bad  as  a  flea.  The  mineral  wor-rld 
is  oulder  than  the  human  wor-rld,  my  lad,  an',  bj 
gorry,  we  must  work  har-rd  to  learn  in  a  thousand 
years  what  happened  in  siveral  million.  Ah,  this 
study  o'  rocks  is  a  grand  study.  But  as  for  this  rid 
float,  by  look  an'  fale  an'  gineral  make-up  it's  a  plain 
iron  oxide,  an'  by  heft  an'  consti-u-^wcy  I  suspected 
that  like  as  not  'twas  better  than  plain  iron.  A  pros- 
pector always  acts  on  suspicions,  my  lad;  he's  always 
testin'  an'  learnin'.  'Most  anybody  without  knowl- 
edge o'  rocks  would  have  passed  this  rid  float  by, 
bein'  as  the  mountain  is  all  rid  an'  rid  rock  is  common. 
But  by  spyin'  it,  an'  pickin'  it  up,  1  found  out,  clearer 
than  your  ould  map  can  tell,  that  up  above  some- 
wheres  is  a  big  outcrop  from  which  this  float  is  bein' 
shpilled  down  the  mountain.  You  see,  this  oxide  for- 
mation is  a  softenin'  by  wind  an'  weather;  an'  where 
the  main  body  outcrops  it  chips  off,  an'  the  chips  are 
carried  on  down  by  snow  an'  rain — bein'  what  we  call 
float." 

"And  when  we  get  as  high  as  the  outcrop,  then 
there'll  be  no  more  float,"  propounded  Phil. 

"Exactly,"  nodded  Flapjack  Jim.  "Yez  niver 
heard  o'  wood  or  shtone  either  floatin'  uphill,  did 
yez?  Sure,  this  oxide  float  is  mortal  soft,  an'  the 
most  of  it  is  crumbled  to  dirt,  in  its  travels.  But 
we'll  foind  it  in  the  dirt,  by  pannin',  an'  we'll  kape 
our  eyes  open  for  the  pieces,  too.  We  might  climb 
shtraight  to  yon  cross,  which  looks  to  be  quartz  but 


58  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

may  be  somethin'  else,  trustin'  to  luck  an'  that  ould 
map;  an'  when  we  got  away  up  there  we'd  have  our 
trouble  for  our  pains  an'  be  all  at  sea,  in  case  no 
gould  was  to  be  had  for  the  askin'.  So  my  advice  be, 
to  play  safe  an'  shtick  to  the  float,  which  is  certain." 

"Wagh!"  approved  Grizzly  Dan.  "That's  sense. 
Foller  the  trail." 

"Yis,"  continued  Flapjack  Jim.  "Follow  the  float, 
higher  an'  higher;  workin'  careful  an'  notin'  when  it 
begins  to  narrow  in,  like,  on  right  an'  lift.  The  closer 
we  get  to  the  main  lead,  the  liss  the  float  is  spread 
out;  an'  where  the  float  is  bunched,  an'  big  in  pieces, 
we'll  be  close  under  the  source  of  it,  an'  no  mistake. 
It's  like  as  if  we  shtarted  at  the  base  of  a  triangle,  an' 
the  outcrop  we're  sakin'  is  at  the  apex." 

"Do  you  think  we  stand  as  good  a  show  as  those 
men  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge?"  asked  Phil. 

"We  do,"  answered  Flapjack  Jim.  "The  ridge 
runs  up  an'  splits  the  slope  o'  the  mountain ;  an'  maybe 
their  half  the  slope  is  the  shteeper,  so  that  the  float  has 
come  down  a  little  further.  But  there'll  be  plenty  on 
our  half  the  slope,  an'  we'll  have  the  'asier  time  with 
it,  by  r'ason  o'  the  fact  that  the  climb  is  sweeter  an' 
the  pieces  are  like  to  be  bigger." 

"Bueno,"  grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "This  chile  feels 
like  dancin'  a  leetle  medicine,  an'  then  eatin'  agin  an' 
goin'  to  bed." 

So  to  "Whoo-oop !  Ow-ow-gh !  Hay-ah-hay !"  they 
gaily  circled  the  fire,  with  Flapjack  Jim  plying  leg  and 
peg  as  brisk  as  anybody.  Then  they  all  turned  in — 
Grizzly  Dan  having  first  investigated  again  his  be- 
loved pot. 


CHAPTER   V 

GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT 

FLAPJACK  JIM  was  cooking  flapjacks.  He  was 
squatting,  peg  at  an  angle,  beside  a  little  fire  of  his 
own,  the  batter  in  his  gold-pan,  an  iron  skillet  held 
over  the  coals,  and  his  burro  looking  almost  over  his 
shoulder.  By  the  other  fire  Grizzly  Dan  was  making 
coffee  and  frying  bacon,  and  the  air  was  full  of  deli- 
cious smell. 

"Will  yez  have  'em  turned  wance  or  three  times?" 
called  Flapjack  Jim,  seeing  the  boys  watching  him. 

"Three  times,"  answered  Chet,  promptly. 

"All  right."  And  with  deft  motion  tossing  the  flap- 
jack from  the  pan  into  the  air,  Jim  actually  caused  it 
to  turn  over  three  times  before  it  landed  flat  in  the 
pan  again. 

"Yez  see,"  he  explained,  "it  must  make  wan,  three, 
or  five  turns,  always  on  the  odd,  so  it  will  change 
sides  when  it  lands." 

"Can  you  give  it  five  turns  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"I  can,  but  it  ain't  good  for  the  flapjack,"  said 
Flapjack  Jim.  "It  gets  tossed  too  high.  But  sure, 
I'll  show  yez."  And  thereupon  he  tossed  the  pancake 
for  five  turns.  "When  it  lands  from  so  high  it  lands 
heavy,"  he  continued.  "An'  a  heavy  flapjack  be  bad 
for  the  stomick." 

"There  must  be  quite  a  science  in  making  flap- 

59 


60  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

jacks,"  proffered  Phil.  "I  couldn't  turn  one  once,  ex- 
cept with  a  shovel." 

"Looks  easy,  though,"  hazarded  Chet. 

"Thry  wan,  thry  wan,  then,"  invited  Jim.  He  re- 
moved the  flapjack  from  the  spider  to  the  pile  of 
others  kept  warm  between  tin  plates  set  upon  some 
ashes,  and  poured  in  some  fresh  batter.  "It  takes  jist 
a  turn  o'  the  wrist;  that's  all." 

Chet  accepted  the  spider.  The  flapjack  sizzled  and 
smoked,  and  soon  it  must  be  turned. 

"Flop  her  up  an5  over,  now,"  bade  Flapjack  Jim. 
"With  a  turn  o'  the  wrist,  quick  an'  'asy." 

Chet  would  follow  directions.  He  sharply  flipped 
the  spider,  and  looked  to  see  the  pancake  sail  aloft, 
turn,  and  come  down  bottom-side  up,  as  a  proper  pan- 
cake should.  But  instead,  the  flapjack,  limp  and 
sticky,  rose  a  few  inches,  half  turned,  and  landed  with 
a  smack  on  Chet's  fingers  grasping  the  handle  of  the 
spider.  The  hot  batter  splashed  and  stuck  like  a  plas- 
ter; and  with  a  howl  Chet  dropped  spider  and  all  into 
the  fire. 

While  Phil  roared  and  Grizzly  Dan  chuckled,  Flap- 
jack Jim  stumped  to  the  rescue. 

"Arrah,  now !"  he  deplored.  "  'Tis  a  good  flapjack 
spoiled."  And  he  dragged  the  spider  and  all  out  of  the 
fire. 

"It's  more  of  a  trick  than  you'd  think,  to  toss  a 
flapjack,"  defended  Chet,  red  and  flustrated,  to  the 
laughing  spectators. 

"No  matter.  Brownie  gets  the  bad  wans,  anyhow," 
comforted  Flapjack  Jim. 


GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT—  61 

"Look!"  cried  Phil. 

For  the  burro  had  eagerly  sought  the  discarded 
flapjack,  and  was  munching  it  with  much  satisfaction. 

"Sure,  an'  he  likes  flapjacks,"  informed  Jim,  busy 
again.  "Sometimes  I  make  him  a  batch  on  purpose, 
to  kape  him  in  good  health.  He  takes  'em  cooked  or 
raw,  cold  or  hot." 

Having  finished  this  flapjack,  Brownie  stood  with 
long  ears  pricked,  awaiting  more. 

His  taste  may  have  seemed  odd,  for  an  animal  on 
the  horse  and  mule  order,  but  when  presently  they 
sampled  the  flapjacks  the  boys  did  not  wonder  at  him. 
Those  flapjacks  were  luscious — and  smeared  with  ba- 
con grease  they  were  more  luscious — and  eaten  here 
in  the  fresh  air,  with  Red  Chief  towering  over,  they 
were  most  luscious. 

"An',"  quoth  Flapjack  Jim,  "they'll  stay  with  yez." 

"Wagh!"  mumbled  Grizzly  Dan,  working  away. 
"Hyar's  stuff  that'll  shine  'longside  beaver-tail  an* 
painter  meat." 

And,  as  further  approval,  sure  enough  Brownie 
licked  the  batter  pan ! 

Now,  after  breakfast,  the  hither  flank  of  Red 
Chief,  ruddy  in  the  morning  glow,  waited  and  beck- 
oned. It  was  arranged,  by  mutual  consent,  that  Flap- 
jack Jim,  with  his  pan  and  his  pick,  should  take  the 
middle;  Chet  should  prospect  on  the  left,  Phil  on  the 
right;  old  Dan  would  scout  about,  and  be  camp  ten- 
der, moving  the  equipment  to  keep  pace  with  opera- 
tions. 

Red  and  undulating  and  apparently  bare  stretched 


62  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

onward  and  upward  the  mighty  slope  of  Red  Chief, 
from  the  wide  base  to  the  mystic  triple  peaks.  From 
below  it  looked  to  be  an  even  surface;  but  when 
traversed  it  proved  to  be  welted  and  dimpled  and 
broken,  capable  of  concealing  in  its  draws  and  hollows 
a  regiment  at  a  time. 

Carrying  his  new  pick  instead  of  his  old  and  faith- 
ful carbine,  and  accompanied  by  Bonita  and  the  pups, 
Phil  trudged  to  the  right.  He  kept  his  eyes  open  for 
"float"  and  "outcrop"  of  all  kinds,  and  tried  to  ima- 
gine himself  a  veteran  prospector. 

However,  this  pursuit  was  about  on  a  par  with 
looking  for  a  needle  or  two  in  a  haystack.  The  sur- 
face of  the  mountain  was  so  vast,  and  all  objects  were 
so  small  in  comparison.  Phil  constantly  sighted  bits 
of  red  rock  that  looked  like  something  especial;  but 
when  he  picked  them  up  they  seemed  to  be  the  ordi- 
nary kind.  Flapjack  Jim  had  told  him  and  Chet  to  be 
on  the  lookout  for  low  ridges  or  mounds  or  ledges 
breaking  up,  indicating  outcrop  of  rock  different  from 
the  prevailing  formation — rock  that  might  be  harder 
than  the  other  rocks  and  might  contain  mineral;  and 
then,  on  the  other  hand,  when  the  mineralized  rock 
was  softer  than  the  other  rocks,  instead  of  an  outcrop 
there  might  be  a  crease.  This  crease  should  be  in- 
vestigated. 

So  Phil  alertly  scrutinized  before  and  up  and  down. 
When  he  came  to  any  spot  that  looked  like  a  mound 
or  a  ledge,  he  industriously  pecked  away  with  his  new 
pick — and  found  nothing  exciting.  It  was  the  same 
rock.  In  his  mind's  eye  he  was  always  sighting  a 


GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT—  63 

distinct  outcrop,  extending  like  a  low  wall,  into  which 
he  would  peck,  and  out  of  which  he  would  carve 
chunks  that  would  make  Flapjack  Jim  exclaim: 
"Hooray!  Tin  thousand  dollars  to  the  ton,  my  lad. 
You've  shtruck  the  bonanza,  right  away."  Thus  he 
saw,  with  his  mind's  eye ;  but  with  his  practical  eye  he 
saw  nothing  of  the  kind. 

Occasionally  he  slipped  a  fragment  of  rock  that 
seemed  interesting  into  the  ore-sack  which  he  carried. 
The  ore-sack  and  the  pick  grew  heavy,  the  sun  grew 
hot,  and  he  sat  down,  for  a  moment's  rest.  Near  him 
gladly  flopped,  panting,  Bonita,  and  one  by  one  the 
pups  joined  them. 

Above  and  below  extended  the  mountain.  On  the 
one  hand  was  the  ridge  beyond  which  prospected  the 
three  "hostiles" ;  on  the  other  were  at  work  Chet  and 
Flapjack  Jim.  Somewhere  down  along  the  stream 
which  cut  into  the  foot  of  Red  Chief  was  Grizzly 
Dan,  on  the  scout.  And  across  before  lifted  misty 
the  crest  of  Warrior  Peak. 

As  he  sat,  Phil  was  not  comfortable.  Under  him 
was  a  sharp  stone  or  two  that  hurt.  So  he  shifted 
position  and  looked.  He  picked  up  the  loose  frag- 
ments, in  order  to  smooth  the  spot,  and  was  mechani- 
cally tossing  them  away,  when  suddenly  he  quit, 
turned  over  and  over  the  piece  that  he  was  holding, 
and  muttered,  at  himself: 

"Whoa!  What's  the  matter  with  yuh!  Haven't 
you  got  any  sense?" 

And  then  he  added,  in  a  cheer: 

"Hurrah!     If  this  isn't  some  of  that  float,  I'll  eat 


64  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

it!  Doesn't  it  beat  the  dickens!  I  was  sitting  on  it, 
and  never  knew  it!" 

Bonita  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  with  pricked  ears 
came  over  to  investigate.  She  knew  that  her  master 
had  discovered  something.  And  so  he  had,  and  he 
was  excited;  for  among  the  rock  fragments  that  he 
was  tossing  away,  as  rubbish,  certainly  were  some 
softer  pieces  apparently  identical  with  the  red  float 
samples — and  he  had  actually  been  sitting  upon  them ! 
Now,  wasn't  that  a  great  joke  of  the  mountain's — to 
let  a  youth  hunt  and  hunt  and  not  find,  and  then  to 
have  him  sit  on  what  he  was  after? 

Phil  rummaged  closely,  and  gathered  half  a  dozen 
fragments  of  the  bricky  red  rock;  one,  half  embedded 
where  he  had  been  sitting,  was  the  size  of  a  biscuit; 
the  others  were  smaller,  and  probably  had  formed  a 
part  of  the  larger  piece.  They  were  scattered  within 
a  radius,  up  hill  and  down,  of  ten  or  fifteen  feet. 
This  comprised  the  hoard;  Phil  searched  around,  but 
found  no  more. 

Anyway,  he  had  these;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  ought  to  show  them  to  Flapjack  Jim,  and  make 
certain  of  their  quality.  Far  on  the  left  was  to  be 
seen  Chet's  figure,  prowling  along  the  mountain-side 
as  he,  too,  hunted  for  float  and  other  sign;  but  the 
figure  of  Jim  had  disappeared.  However,  he  must  be 
somewhere  in  that  direction;  and  with  the  pieces  in 
his  pocket  Phil  trudged  in  a  hurry  to  show  them. 

In  due  time  he  heard  some  one  singing.  It  was  the 
voice  of  Flapjack  Jim,  who,  unseen,  must  be  entertain- 
ing himself  as  he  worked. 


GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT—  65 

"Burro  an'  pick,  burro  an'  pick, 
Thryin'  the  trail  o'  gettin'  rich  quick, 
Lavin'  your  home  an'  lavin'  your  wife — 
Ain't  it  a  tough  wan,  the  prospector's  life?" 

Thus  caroled  Flapjack  Jim;  and — 

"Hee-haw!"  applauded,  as  a  chorus,  Brownie. 

Flapjack  Jim  was  down  in  the  bottom  of  a  long, 
narrow  hollow  similar  to  an  arroyo.  The  bottom  was 
soft,  and  braced  on  his  peg  he  was  digging  with  a 
spade.  Close  at  hand  stood  Brownie,  his  burden- 
bearer  and  faithful  assistant,  who  had  followed  him 
in. 

"Burro  an'  pick,  burro  an*  pick — " 

chanted  the  little  man,  as  he  toiled;  when,  notified  by 
the  crunch  of  Phil's  shoes  on  the  edge  of  the  hollo w, 
he  looked  up. 

"Come  in,  come  in,"  he  said,  wiping  his  forehead 
with  the  back  of  his  hand.  "What  luck?"  he  asked, 
as  Phil,  plunging  down,  arrived. 

"Think  I  found  some  float,"  ventured  Phil,  sub- 
mitting his  prize. 

"Sure  enough,"  agreed  Flapjack  Jim.  "  Tis  the 
same  stuff.  An'  where  was  it?  Over  yonder?" 

"Yes.  I  didn't  find  it  until  after  I'd  sat  on  it, 
though,"  confessed  Phil;  and  he  told. 

"Exactly,"  nodded  the  little  man.  "Sure,  aren't 
some  mines  diskivvered  only  after  fifteen  an'  twinty 
years  search — an'  then  agin'  they're  diskivvered  all  of 
a  sudden  by  pure  accident.  Tom  Cruse  trailed  the 
Drum  Lummond  lode,  in  Montany,  for  twinty  years 


66  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

before  he  caught  it.  Yes,  an'  some  o'  the  time  he 
couldn't  get  trusted  for  a  sack  o'  flour  to  make  his 
flapjacks  with,  he  was  so  har-rd  put.  But  he  shtuck, 
an'  at  last  he  found  a  ledge  so  grand  that  he  can  buy 
his  flapjacks  alriddy  made  for  the  rist  of  his  life.  An' 
on  the  other  hand,  down  in  New  Mexico,  didn't  Jack 
Adams  throw  away  his  haversack,  the  same  bein'  on 
fire ;  an'  when  the  powder  in  it  exploded  aginst  a  rock 
it  blew  open  a  foine  rich  vein  that  he  wouldn't  have 
known  was  there  at  all,  at  all.  So  when  yez  sat  on 
your  float  'twas  nothin'  strange.  But  here — mebbe 
I'm  diskivverin'  a  pay  streak  on  my  own  account; 
Brownie  an'  me." 

He  resumed  digging.  The  surface  was  of  the  red 
gravel  and  sand,  but  now  his  spade  was  opening  up  a 
black  layer,  beneath.  This  also  was  sand:  a  singular 
fine  sand,  which  might  have  been  coal  dust  but  which 
didn't  smut  the  fingers  as  Phil  gathered  some  of  it. 

"We'll  after  be  thryin'  some  o'  this  out,  in  the  pan," 
grunted  Flapjack  Jim. 

"What  you  doing?"  queried  Chet's  voice;  and  Chet 
himself  was  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  hollow,  and 
gazing  in.  He  looked  like  a  cave-man  or  other  wild 
hunter  as  with  a  grunt  he  swung  from  his  shoulders 
an  immense  pair  of  branched  horns,  and  leaned  upon 
them. 

"What  you  got?"  answered  Phil,  with  a  counter 
question. 

"Biggest  elk  horns  I  ever  saw,"  responded  Chet. 
"Found  'em  back  where  I  was  prospecting.  They  were 
lying  right  in  the  open." 


GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT—  67 

Up  scrambled  Phil,  to  inspect.  Indeed  and  they 
were  the  biggest  of  horns,  in  separate  twin  branches, 
of  course,  each  branch  standing  on  a  butt  as  high  as 
Chet  was  tall. 

"The  fellow  who  wore  these  must  have  been  a 
king  elk,  all  right,"  praised  Phil.  "Did  you  find  any 
float?" 

"Naw,"  grunted  Chet.  "Did  you?" 

"Yes,  some." 

"What's  Jim  doing?"  again  queried  Chet,  curious. 

"Digging.  He's  found  something,  too — a  pay 
streak." 

"Must  be  a  placer  prospect,  then,"  pronounced 
Chet,  out  of  superior  knowledge;  and  leaving  the 
horns  on  the  brink,  together  they  plunged  down  into 
this  hollow  where  Flapjack  Jim,  attended  by  the  long- 
eared  patient  Brownie,  was  so  busy. 

Flapjack  Jim's  spade  continued  to  throw  up  the 
black  sand,  which  contrasted  so  strongly  with  the 
prevailing  redness. 

"Pay  dirt?"  asked  the  wise  Chet,  professionally. 

"Dunno,  my  lad,"  replied  the  little  man,  digging 
and  perspiring.  "But  I'm  thinking  I'm  most  to  bed- 
rock, an'  we'll  jist  take  some  o'  this  down  to  wather 
an'  pan  it.  Then  we'll  tell,  mighty  quick." 

He  was  opening  a  trench,  upon  the  bottom  of  which 
his  spade  rang  dully  as  if  it  encountered  rock  or  hard 
clay.  The  black  sand  lying  the  deepest  he  began  to 
shovel  into  an  ore-sack;  and  presently,  hoisting  the 
sack,  with  fifteen  or  twenty  pounds  of  the  sand  in 
it,  over  his  shoulder,  with  pan  in  hand  he  sturdily 


68  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

stumped  out  of  the  hollow.  Chet  and  Phil  and 
Brownie  followed. 

Flapjack  Jim  went  stumping  down  to  the  stream, 
deposited  there  his  sack,  opened  it,  half  filled  his  cop- 
per pan  with  the  sand,  and  sinking  the  pan  to  its  rim 
in  the  current,  he  swirled  it  round  and  round,  so  that 
the  water  washed  in  and  was  slopped  out,  repeatedly. 
The  sand,  flowing  away,  grew  less  and  less  in  the 
pan.  The  operation  was  neatly  done  and  did  not  look 
any  too  easy.  At  least,  it  was  like  tossing  flapjacks : 
one  had  to  know  how.  But  the  little  man  with  his 
maimed  hand  did  it  very  well. 

"Any  good?"  hazarded  Phil,  unable  to  wait  longer 
for  results. 

"You  tell  me  an'  I'll  tell  you,"  retorted  Flapjack 
Jim.  "I  guiss  yez  niver  panned  much,  did  yez?  But 
I'm  r'achin'  the  bottom,  when  we'll  all  know  more." 

He  alternated  the  whirling  of  the  pan  by  a  tilting 
and  a  flirting  which  sent  sand  and  water  together  over 
the  rim  and  out.  Soon  only  the  coarser  particles  of 
the  sand  were  left,  and  even  these  Jim  skillfully 
swished  away.  He  was  squinting  earnestly  into  the 
pan,  while  he  worked;  Phil  and  Chet,  craning,  peered. 

"I  see  some,  don't  I?"  exclaimed  Chet.  "Looks 
sort  of  yellow,  anyhow." 

"Well,  now,  belike  you  do,"  admitted  Flapjack  Jim. 
"There  yez  are,"  and  he  extended  the  pan  for  inspec- 
tion, as  with  a  grunt  he  straightened  his  back.  "A 
fifteen-cent  pan,  I  make  it — not  so  bad,  not  so  bad,  if 
it  houlds  out." 

Fifteen  cents'  worth  of  gold  was  not  very  much — 


GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT—  69 

the  merest  trace  of  yellow.  Phil  was  disappointed, 
and  Chet  sniffed  with  a  peculiar  sniff  which  said  plain- 
ly, "Aw,  is  that  all?" 

"Wouldn't  call  that  pay  dirt,  would  you,  then?" 
asked  Phil.  . 

"Wouldn't  I?"  returned  Flapjack  Jim.  "Sure,  an' 
didn't  I  know  yez  weren't  miners.  Tin  cents  to  the 
pan  be  pay  dirt;  fifteen  cents  be  plenty  good  enough, 
an'  twinty  cents  be  rich.  When  wan  washes  forty 
pans  a  day,  as  wan  can,  at  tin  cents  to  the  pan,  he 
makes  his  four  dollars,  an'  his  board  an'  lodgin'  aren't 
costin'  him  very  much,  either.  Yis,  an'  when  on  oc- 
casion there's  wan  hundred  dollars  in  a  pan,  as  I've 
seen,  myself,  b'  gorry,  in  Calif orny,  a  fellow  can 
afford  to  buy  a  shirt  although  the  same  cost  twinty  dol- 
lars, like  it  used  to  in  the  new  diggin's.  Yis,  an'  in 
Montany  they've  washed  out  wan  thousand  dollars  to 
the  pan ;  but  Brownie  an'  me,  we're  content  with  fifteen 
cents,  which  is  more'n  most  do." 

Flapjack  Jim  concluded  his  speech  by  scooping 
more  of  the  sandy  dirt  into  the  pan,  on  top  of  the 
streak  of  yellow;  and  he  proceeded  again  to  wash  it. 
He  repeated  the  operation  until  he  had  used  the  sup- 
ply in  the  ore-sack.  Now  the  yellow  in  the  bottom  of 
the  pan  was  much  increased ;  and  scraping  it  together, 
he  transferred  it  to  his  little  buckskin  bag. 

"Going  to  bring  all  of  that  black  stuff  down  here  ?" 
demanded  Chet. 

"That  depinds.  Tis  a  slow  job,  unless  yez  have 
somethin'  bigger  than  a  pan.  The  pan's  all  right  for 
testin'  or  for  wan  man  who  doesn't  nade  much;  but 


70  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

for  a  party  there  ought  to  be  at  laste  a  cradle  or 
rocker.  Would  yez  know  what  that  is?" 

They  shook  their  heads 

"'Tis  just  a  box  like,  set  upon  rockers  like  a  cradle, 
with  an  openin'  at  wan  end,  an*  elates  nailed  across 
the  bottom  inside.  The  dirt  is  dumped  in,  an'  the 
wather  is  poured  in,  an'  when  the  thing  is  rocked 
from  side  to  side  the  wather  carries  the  dirt  out  whilst 
the  gould  settles  aginst  the  elates.  Or  there's  the 
Long  Tom,  bein'  a  trough  say  twinty  feet  long  an' 
not  dape,  with  elates  in  the  bottom,  an'  a  sieve  near 
the  top  for  ketchin'  the  pebbles.  When  a  shtrame  is 
turned  in,  to  flow  fairly  rapid  down  it,  an'  plinty  o' 
dirt  is  supplied,  two  or  three  men  can  wash  a  couple 
o'  tons  a  day,  an'  make  a  clane-up  o'  the  riffles  at 
night.  An'  there  be  other  sluice  conthrivances — for 
the  Long  Tom  trough  is  a  sluice,  ye  know,  in  miner 
talk.  But  it  all  takes  wather,  yez  see." 

"I  don't  see,  though,  how  you  managed  to  let  the 
dirt  go  and  keep  the  gold,  when  you  panned — unless 
the  gold  is  a  whole  lot  heavier  than  the  sand,"  con- 
fessed Phil. 

"An'  so  'tis,"  said  Flapjack  Jim.  "So  'tis.  Gould 
is  the  hivviest  of  all  metals,  except  platinum — an' 
platinum  is  mighty  scarce.  So  gould  sinks,  an'  the 
other  stuff  flows  off.  Gould  be  nineteen  times  as 
hivvy  as  the  same  bulk  o'  wather,  an'  'most  twice  as 
hivvy  as  lead.  An'  wan  grain  of  it  can  be  baten  out 
to  kivver  close  on  twelve  square  fate,  or  fifty-six 
square  inches,  which  laves  it  wan  two  hundred  an' 
eighty  thousandths  of  an  inch  thick.  Yis,  an'  the  same 


GOLD  IN  THE  PAN;  BUT—  71 

grain  can  be  drawn  out  into  a  wire  five  hundred  fate 
long.  I  tell  yez,  gould  is  a  wonderful  metal  Fire 
doesn't  change  it,  an'  air  doesn't  change  it,  an'  wather 
doesn't  change  it,  an'  only  a  few  acids  work  on  it; 
an'  all  in  all,  it  lasts  foriver." 

"It  does  if  you  don't  spend  it,"  answered  the  prac- 
tical Chet. 

"Ah,  well,  if  nobody  shpent  it  the  most  of  us  would 
niver  get  it,"  quoth  Flapjack  Jim.  "Sure,  the  good 
earth  gives  it  to  us  in  the  first  place,  an'  shtarts  it 
goin'  the  rounds.  'Tis  not  a  question  o'  spindin'  it; 
'tis  spindin'  it  the  right  way  that  counts." 

"Going  to  pan  more?"  again  suggested  Chet, 
eagerly.  "Let's  make  a  rocker,  or  a  Long  Tom.  How 
many  tons  of  pay  dirt  do  you  think  there  are?" 

"Pshaw,  now,"  deplored  the  little  man,  "an'  be  you 
gettin'  the  gould  fever?  'Tis  wan  little  prospect;  an' 
same  as  the  float,  'tis  sign  of  a  bonanza  waitin'  up 
above.  The  gould  was  washed  down,  like  the  float. 
We'll  not  shtop  to  make  any  machine;  we'll  go  on." 

"But  what  made  you  dig  down  in  there,  in  the 
first  place?"  queried  Chet,  direct. 

"That's  what  I'd  like  to  know,"  added  Phil. 

"What  made  me?  What  made  me  dig  down  in 
there,  you  say  ?"  cackled  the  little  man,  as  they  trudged 
back  for  the  hollow.  "Faith,  I  guiss  'twas  instinct. 
When  a  man  has  prospected  fifty  years,  he  does  things 
by  habit.  It  jist  looked  good  to  me,  like  as  if  there 
might  have  been  a  shtrame  cuttin'  through  there 
wance ;  an'  so  I  opened  it  up  to  the  pay  dirt  on  the  bed- 
rock. Undershtand,  now,  that  wance  a  river  flowed 


72  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

down  this  mountain,  if  there  was  any  mountain  then; 
but  anyway,  it  was  before  you  or  I  was  born.  An'  the 
foine  gould  washed  with  it,  an'  o'  course  settled  low- 
est, bein'  hivviest;  an'  after  the  river  shtopped,  durin' 
tin  thousand  or  a  million  years,  the  earth  an'  the  rock 
filled  in,  an'  mebbe  the  mountain  was  set  atop  of  all, 
kivverin'  the  gould  in  the  shtrame  bed,  until  an  ould 
Irish  prospector  comes  along  an'  digs  a  hole  an'  finds 
a  bit  of  it." 

"Wish  I  knew  as  much  about  prospecting  as  you 
do,"  said  Phil,  impulsively. 

"What  I  know  I've  earned,  my  lad,"  wheezed  Flap- 
jack Jim.  "It's  little  enough,  but  it  be  mighty  valuable 
to  me.  Now  let  me  tell  you  somethin'.  In  this  work- 
aday world  what  counts  is  skilled  labor,  no  matter 
how  shmall  or  how  big  the  job.  The  more  you  know 
about  it,  the  better  yez  are  off.  An'  in  prospectin'  as 
in  every  thin'  else,  yez  must  learn  all  yez  can  before 
yez  shtart  out;  an'  after  yez  are  shtarted  yez  must 
kape  on  learnin';  for  the  man  who  thinks  he  can  get 
by  luck  what  other  men  get  by  work  is  a  foolish  fool, 
the  world  over." 


CHAPTER   VI 

ALL  THAT   GLITTERS   IS   NOT   GOLD 

"GoiNG  to  dig  more?"  asked  Chet,  as  they  arrived 
again  at  the  hollow. 

"I'm  thinkin'  I'll  open  it  up  a  bit  shtill,"  mused  the 
little  man.  "I  may  learn  somethin'  o'  the  formation — 
an'  belike  I'll  turn  up  a  noice  lump  of  a  nugget  that 
'11  fetch  us  twinty  or  thirty  thousand  dollars  all  at 
wance,"  and  he  cackled  as,  surveying  the  hole  he  had 
made,  he  vigorously  scratched  his  head. 

"What !"  yelped  Phil  and  Chet  together.    And— 

"Say!"  gasped  Chet,  his  sky-blue  eyes  wide  and 
wondering. 

"Do  you  think  you  might?"  queried  Phil. 

"Not  ivery  day,"  confessed  the  little  man.  "Wan 
nugget  found  down  in  Australy  fetched  forty-two 
thousand,  I  belave.  It  weighed  wan  hundred  an' 
eighty-four  pounds.  I  don't  see  the  same  in  this  hole 
o'  mine.  But  I've  seen  many  in  Calif orny,  some 
weighin'  up  to  fifty  pounds  an'  worth  tin  an'  twinty 
thousand,  an'  wan  or  two  weighin'  a  hundred.  I  re- 
member well  the  day  I  shtooped  over  an'  picked  up  a 
pretty  lump — in  Nevady  it  was — o'  gould  an'  quartz, 
shaped  like  a  horseshoe,  b'  gorry,  weighin'  nineteen 
pounds  to  the  ounce  an'  fetchin'  me  five  thousand 
dollars ;  four  thousand  for  the  gould  an'  wan  thousand 
for  the  shape." 

73 


74  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Oh,  jimmy!  Let's  dig  for  nuggets!"  exclaimed 
Chet,  flaming  with  excitement. 

"Nuggets,"  quoth  the  little  man,  "are  the  main  luck 
o'  minin'.  Nuggets  are  mostly  luck;  but  the  search  for 
gould  an'  other  mineral  be  science.  Gould  doesn't 
grow,  here,  there,  iverywhere,  as  tenderfate  an'  igno- 
ramuses same  to  think.  To  the  eye  that  can  read,  the 
earth  is  an  open  book,  with  the  laves  shtandin'  up  on 
edge,  an'  indexed;  an'  by  these  layers  or  shtrata  the 
eddycated  eye  is  tould  what's  likely  to  be  found  inside. 
But  nuggets !  They  be  accidents — an'  yez  can't  depind 
on  accidents.  I  can  count  on  the  fingers  o'  my  two 
hands  all  the  nuggets  of  any  size  that  I've  found  in 
fifty  years  o'  prospectin' ;  an'  I've  made  wan  hundred 
fold  the  money  by  hard  work  that  I've  iver  made  by 
such  luck.  So  don't  shtand  there  lookin'  for  me  to 
dig  up  nuggets,  lads.  Better  be  busy.  'Tis  a  long 
way  yit  to  the  top  o'  the  mountain  an'  the  Trapper's 
Mine." 

"All  right,"  said  Chet.  "That's  sense,  I  reckon. 
Come  on,  Phil.  Might  as  well  look  for  float,  while 
Jim's  digging.  Didn't  see  any  on  my  side.  Where'd 
you  find  yours  ?" 

"I'll  show  you.  Maybe  it's  all  over  here,"  proffered 
Phil;  and  off  he  trudged. 

"Keep  your  eyes  peeled  for  nuggets,  too,"  reminded 
Chet,  the  picture  fast  in  his  mind.  "We  might  find 
one." 

"If  it's  too  big  to  handle,  sure  I'll  lind  you 
Brownie,"  called  Flapjack  Jim,  after.  "An'  if  he 
can't  pack  it  all  at  wance,  we'll  shplit  it." 


ALL  THAT  GLITTERS  IS  NOT  GOLD    75 

"Hee-haw !"  brayed  Brownie,  suddenly,  as  if  ap- 
preciating the  humor. 

Along  the  mountain-side  went  the  two  boys,  pick 
upon  shoulder  and  Bonita  and  her  pups  trotting  be- 
hind. Phil  thought  that  he  could  lead  straight  to  the 
spot  where  he  had  sat  upon  the  float — but  somehow  he 
didn't  come  to  it.  He  remembered  exactly  how  the 
spot  looked,  and  the  marks  of  his  heels  should  show. 
He  remembered  a  little  bunch  of  weeds,  and  the  view. 
Well,  it  ought  to  be  right  here ;  but  where  was  it  ? 

He  halted,  and  gazed  about.     Chet  halted,  too. 

"I  thought  this  was  it,  but  it  isn't,"  explained  Phil. 
"Must  be  on  a  little  farther." 

"Didn't  you  back-track?"  asked  Chet. 

"No.  Couldn't,  very  well,  in  this  rock.  Didn't 
suppose  I  needed  to." 

They  proceeded.  Phil  was  constantly  noting  a  spot 
that  looked  like  the  right  one,  but  it  never  turned  out 
to  be  it.  'Twas  astonishing,  how  deceptive  the  moun- 
tain slope  proved — how  many  places  there  were  which 
resembled  one  another  and  then  turned  out  to  differ. 

"Guess  I'll  have  to  give  it  up,"  acknowledged  Phil. 
"Let's  look  for  other  float." 

"And  peck  into  every  likely  bump  or  hollow,"  urged 
Chet.  "Mustn't  miss  any  surface  indications.  We 
might  uncover  a  lead  or  another  placer  prospect." 

"Sure  thing,"  agreed  Phil. 

They  separated,  and  went  industriously  searching 
and  grubbing,  each  anxious  to  be  the  first  in  reporting 
great  news.  Phil's  scanning  eyes  fell  upon  a  fragment 
of  reddish — brick-reddish — rock;  it  struck  him  as  a 


76  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

possibility;  he  grabbed  it,  felt  it,  wet  it,  and  yes,  it 
was,  he  was  sure  that  it  was,  more  float.  He  looked 
in  Chet's  direction,  to  call;  and  there  was  Chet  pranc- 
ing and  beckoning.  Over  hastened  Phil,  running 
across  the  mountain-side. 

"What  is  it?"  he  cried. 

"Found  a  big  nugget!"  announced  Chet.  "See?" 
And  he  held  it  out. 

Phil's  heart  leaped.  He  noted  that  Chet  had 
been  pecking  with  his  pick  and  had  opened  a  little 
patch  of  black  like  the  black  sand.  Now  he  took  into 
his  fingers  the  object  extended  to  him  by  Chet — and, 
yes,  it  certainly  was  a  nugget.  It  was  heavy  and 
blackish  and  curiously  pitted,  and  gleaming  with  yel- 
low— a  pebble  fragment  similar  to  the  one  exhibited  by 
Flapjack  Jim,  but  much  larger,  about  the  size  of  a 
butternut. 

"Isn't  that  a  nugget?"  demanded  Chet,  excited. 

"It  shore  seems  so,  to  me,"  confirmed  Phil. 

"It  shore  does  to  me,  too,"  said  Chet.  "Found  it 
right  in  this  black  sand.  What  do  you  think  it's 
worth?  Five  hundred  dollars?" 

"Guess  so.     Hurrah  for  you!" 

"Get  to  digging,  get  to  digging,"  urged  Chet. 
"Maybe  we'll  find  another.  This  black  sand  is  sign. 
Loosen  it  with  your  pick  and  work  it  over  with  your 
hands."  They  fell  to.  "Thought  this  spot  looked  kind 
of  suspicious,"  panted  Chet.  "So  I — hit  her  a  clip — 
and  out  came — the  black  stuff — and  next  thing — out 
came — the  nugget.  What  'd  you  find — over  there?" 

"Oh,  just  a  piece  of  float,"  answered  Phil. 


ALL  THAT  GLITTERS  IS  NOT  GOLD    77 

"As  long  as  we  can  find  nuggets,  what's  the  use  of 
hunting  for  float?"  argued  Chet,  still  elated. 

"I  should  say !"  agreed  Phil. 

They  pecked,  and  squatting  they  clawed  the  black 
sand,  sifting  it  through  their  fingers.  Before  they  had 
made  much  of  a  pile  the  sand  was  at  an  end;  for  in- 
stead of  being  an  ancient  stream-bed,  as  where  Flap- 
jack Jim  was  working,  it  was  only  a  shallow  deposit, 
filling  a  little  cup.  Not  another  nugget  was  felt ;  how- 
ever, the  gopher-mound  of  the  sand  glittered  with 
golden  particles. 

"It's  a  bonanza,  just  the  same,  what  there  is  of  it," 
boasted  Chet.  "Let's  pack  this  sand  over  and  pan  out 
the  gold  with  Jim's  pan." 

"And  show  him  the  nugget,"  added  Phil.  "He  can 
tell  what  it's  worth." 

"Don't  waste  any  of  that  sand,"  cautioned  Chet. 

Feverishly  they  scooped  the  sand,  with  their  hands, 
into  the  ore  sacks ;  and  each  laden  with  his  heavy  sack, 
besides  his  pick,  they  set  out  to  astonish  Flapjack  Jim. 

"We  don't  want  to  lose  this  place ;  it  may  have  a  lot 
more  deposits,"  warned  Chet. 

"Remember  it  by  that  big  red  rim-rock,  right 
above,"  puffed  Phil. 

They  presently  were  guided  by  Flapjack  Jim's  sing- 
ing. It  was  a  new  song,  loudly  chanted. 

"I'm  the  faithful  animile  of  a  most  peculiar  shtyle; 

I'm  supposed  to  be  a  sort  o'  goat  an'  bird; 
Where  there's  niver  trail  nor  track  do  I  tote  the  hiwy 

pack, 

An'  I  sing  the  swatest  carols  iver  heard: 
Hee-haw!" 


78  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Hee-haw !"  chimed  in,  as  chorus,  Brownie  the 
burro.  The  pups  ran  forward,  barking  sillily;  and 
when  the  boys  and  Bonita  arrived,  the  little  man  was 
looking  for  them.  He  had  dug  considerable  of  a 
trench,  and  now  stood  gazing  at  it. 

"Back  agin,  be  yez?"  he  greeted.  "Did  yez  hear 
Brownie's  song?" 

"We  sure  did,"  responded  Phil. 

"He  alluz  comes  in  on  the  chorus;  the  words  be 
mine,  the  sintiment  his/'  explained  Flapjack  Jim. 
"What's  the  good  news?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  drawled  Chet,  with  great  pre- 
tense of  carelessness.  "How  are  things  with  you? 
Going  to  pan?" 

"I've  come  to  the  end,"  reported  the  little  man, 
scratching  his  head.  "The  bed-rock  runs  in  under 
a  lava  cap,  an'  there  I  be.  Yis,  mebbe  I'll  pan  what  I 
have  out,  but  'tain't  much." 

"Well,  we  found  a  small  bonanza,"  admitted  Chet, 
to  comfort  him.  "Thought  if  you  weren't  using  your 
pan  we'd  wash  out  what  we've  brought  over,  and  see 
what  it  amounts  to." 

"Placer,  be  it?"  queried  the  little  man,  alertly, 
climbing  out  of  his  hollow. 

"Same  kind  of  pay  dirt  as  yours,  only  richer,"  in- 
formed Phil.  "It's  in  our  sacks.  And  Chet  found  a 
nugget,  too." 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  challenged  Chet, 
proudly,  the  nugget  in  his  hand. 

"Arrah,  now,"  crooned  Flapjack  Jim,  taking  it  and 
examining  it.  He  turned  it  over,  and  over,  wet  it  with 


ALL  THAT  GLITTERS  IS  NOT  GOLD    79 

his  tongue,  and  applied  his  pocket-microscope  to  it. 
Then  with  the  point  of  his  knife-blade  he  scratched 
at  it. 

Out  of  his  beady  blue  eyes  he  looked  slily  at  the  two 
boys.  "  'Tis  a  wonder,  ain't  it !"  he  said. 

"How  much  do  you  think  it's  worth  ?"  invited  Chet, 
gratified.  And  Phil  waited,  breathless,  for  the  esti- 
mate. 

"By  the  piece  or  by  the  ton?"  asked  the  little  man. 

"This  piece,  alone." 

"Well,  now,"  mused  Jim,  "if  you  can  throw 
shtraight  enough  yez  might  make  a  foine  splash  in  the 
shtrame  with  it.  Sure  an'  it's  nothin'  but  iron 
pyrites." 

"Isn't  it  gold?  Hasn't  it  got  gold  in  it?"  gasped 
Chet  and  Phil,  at  once. 

"Not  a  bit,  as  I  can  see.    Did  yez  think  it  had?" 

"What's  that  yellow?" 

"That's  the  iron,  in  shape  o'  fool's  gould." 

"Aw,  shucks!  Iron  pyrites!"  bemoaned  Chet.  "It 
fooled  us." 

"Fool's  gould  is  what  they  call  it ;  an'  you're  not  the 
first  wans  to 'be  mistook  in  it,"  consoled  the  little  man. 
"But  I'll  tell  yez  how  to  look  out  for  it,  after  this. 
The  shine  is  off  color,  bein'  brassy,  an'  the  shape  o' 
the  particles  is  crystals,  with  sides  or  faces  to  'em,  as 
the  microscope  will  show  yez  better'n  the  naked  eye. 
Gould  does  not  come  in  the  regular  grains  o'  crystals. 
An'  the  wan  best  test  be  the  point  o'  the  knife.  Gould 
be  soft  an'  yez  can  cut  it;  pyrites  be  hard  an'  yez  can 
scarcely  scratch  it.  Jist  remember  that:  rale  gould 


8o  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

be  soft,  fool's  gould  be  hard.  If  yez  '11  take  this  nug- 
get o'  fool's  gould  an'  thry  it  with  the  knife,  yez  '11 
see  how  hard  it  is." 

"And  we  thought  it  was  worth  about  five  hundred 
dollars,"  faltered  Phil,  ready  to  laugh.  "Isn't  it  worth 
anything  ?" 

"Principally  as  an  eddycation,  my  boy,"  asserted 
Flapjack  Jim.  "By  the  ton  the  pure  stuff  has  some 
bit  of  a  sale,  I  guiss,  at  a  shmall  figger;  'tis  an  iron 
sulphide,  being  sulphur  and  iron;  they  use  it  to  make 
sulphuric  acid  an'  copper  an'  the  like.  But  for  the 
prospector  its  principal  use  be  eddycation,  tachin'  him 
to  use  his  senses.  When  he  sakes  iron,  he  sakes  it 
in  better  form." 

Chet  mournfully  examined  his  "nugget." 

"Then  I  suppose  what  we've  got  in  the  sacks  is 
more  fool's  gold,"  he  deplored. 

Flapjack  Jim  delved  into  an  ore-sack  and  let  a 
handful  of  the  black  sand,  so  glittering,  run  through 
his  fingers. 

"The  same,"  he  said. 

"It's  black  sand,  though,  just  like  yours.  Isn't 
black  sand  sign  of  pay  dirt?" 

"It  be  a  suspicion,  not  a  sign.  The  black  sand  be 
hivvy  with  iron  an'  sinks  along  with  the  gould,  an' 
so  'tis  often  found  with  the  gould,  in  placer  minin' 
of  our  river  beds  an'  ould  beaches.  But  b'  gorry, 
there  be  plinty  o'  placers  [Flapjack  Jim  pronounced 
it  with  the  short  'a'  as  in  'fat']  without  the  black  sand 
at  all.  Clay  an'  gravel  an'  other  dirt — they  be  placer 
mines,  jist  as  good.  An'  the  black  sand  be  a  bother, 


ALL  THAT  GLITTERS  IS  NOT  GOLD    81 

becuz  it  shticks  fast  in  the  pan  an'  it  clogs  the  riffles. 
But  when  the  black  sand  be  prisent  with  the  gould  it 
lies  next  to  the  gould,  an'  it  be  a  sign  to  tell  us  we're 
gettin'  warm." 

"Well,"  quoth  Chet,  "here  goes  five  hundred  dol- 
lars," and  he  chucked  away  the  "nugget"  as  far  as 
he  could.  It  went  bounding  down  the  slight  slope. 
"Going  to  take  your  stuff  down  to  the  creek  and  pan 
it?" 

"I  was  thinkin'  so,"  said  the  little  man;  "with  you 
lads  to  help  me.  But  there  ain't  much,  for  we've  come 
to  the  end.  Walk  down  in,  wance,  an'  I'll  show  yez. 
There  be  a  lava  cap  kivverin'  the  whole  placer,  I  reck- 
on; an'  now  I've  shtruck  it  an'  gone  as  far  as  I  can 
without  tunnelin'." 

Into  the  hollow  they  plunged.  Flapjack  Jim  had 
trenched  from  edge  of  black  sand  deposit  to  edge,  and 
around  about  had  encountered  a  hard  blanket  of 
rock.  By  picking  and  shoveling  he  had  excavated 
under  this,  in  places,  so  that  it  formed  a  pro- 
jecting shelf. 

"Pshaw!"  sympathized   Phil. 

"After  the  wather  came  the  fire,"  mused  Flapjack 
Jim;  "an'  the  lava  shtuff  flowed  down  an'  kivvered 
the  ould  river  bed,  except  in  shpots.  So  the  man  who 
wants  to  follow  the  gould  must  drive  tunnels  in  under 
the  lava  cap.  But  that'll  not  be  us,  an'  it's  jist  as  well, 
for  the  placer  would  be  mighty  timptin,'  an'  those  other 
men  might  bate  us  to  the  top  o'  the  mountain  an'  the 
great  big  bonanza  waitin'  for  somebody  there.  Did 
yez  foind  any  more  float?" 


82  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Yes,  Phil  did,"  answered  Chet.  "I  was  finding 
nuggets !" 

"Same  place?" 

"N— no,"  confessed  Phil,  ruefully.  "I  lost  that 
place.  Couldn't  trail  it  again,  high  or  low." 

"Another  lost  mine,  then?"  piped  the  little  man, 
cheerfully,  as  they  set  to  work  loading  the  ore  sacks 
with  the  sandy  dirt,  for  packing  out  by  themselves 
and  Brownie.  "Can  yez  wonder  how  it  is  that  the 
wanderin'  prospector  or  some  other  man  '11  come  upon 
a  grand  outcrop,  in  a  strange  country,  an'  lave  it  for 
a  time,  an'  niver  be  able  to  foind  it  agin?  I  tell  yez, 
gould  is  bewitched.  There's  the  Pegleg  Smith  Mine — 
another  trapper  mine,  it  be.  Ould  Pegleg  found  it 
long,  long  ago,  on  the  highest  o'  three  little  black  hills 
down  on  the  Colorado  Desert  'twixt  Yuma  an'  Los 
Angeles.  Eighty  per  cent,  gould  was  the  ore;  but 
Smith  niver  found  the  shpot  agin,  an'  for  siventy 
years  prospectors  be  huntin'  for  those  three  little  hills. 
Wan  did  foind  'em,  an'  away  he  rushed  with  samples 
o'  the  rich  ore;  but  niver  agin  did  he  get  sight  o' 
the  three  hills.  There  be  the  Belle  McKeever  lost  mine 
in  Arizony,  diskivvered  in  Sixty-nine  by  soldiers  on 
the  trail  o'  Apaches  who'd  captured  a  young  lady  by 
name  o'  Belle  McKeever.  The  gould  was  lyin'  'round 
as  big  as  buckshot — an'  in  spoite  o'  searchin'  since, 
it  be  there  yit,  for  all  we  know.  There  be  the  Lost 
Cabin  Mine  an'  the  Gunsight  Mine  an'  the  Nigger 
Biggin's,  an'  in  Colorado  the  Antoine  La  Joie.  La  Joie 
was  a  ranchman  in  the  mountains,  an'  while  pursuin' 


ALL  THAT  GLITTERS  IS  NOT  GOLD    83 

Injuns  to  get  back  his  shtock  he  set  down  his  gun 
agin  a  rock.  Faith,  an'  the  butt  knocked  off  a  bit 
o'  quartz  fairly  burstin'  with  gould.  Then  the  Injuns 
descinded  on  him  an'  drove  him  back  out  o'  the  gulch ; 
an'  niver  did  he  see  the  gulch  more,  except  in  dhrames. 
He  couldn't  foind  it.  So  I  tell  yez,  gould  be  be- 
witched. But  we'll  go  to  the  top  o'  the  mountain,  jist 
the  same,  sakin'  the  Trapper's  Mine." 

The  noon  had  passed,  almost  without  their  know- 
ing it;  and  before  all  the  pay  dirt  had  been  packed 
down  and  washed,  the  sun  was  low.  However,  Flap- 
jack Jim's  buckskin  sack  was  heavier  than  in  the 
morning,  and  the  boys  had  added  to  their  store  that 
which  was  better  than  gold, — knowledge. 

"It's  gettin'  on  time  for  camp,  I'm  thinkin',"  spoke 
Flapjack  Jim,  as  at  last  he  might  straighten  his  back 
and  peer  about.  "Have  yez  seen  old  Dan,  this  day  yit, 
since  breakfast?" 

"Thought  I  saw  him  once  or  twice,  down  here 
along  the  creek,"  asserted  Chet.  "Expect  camp's  up- 
stream, somewhere." 

"Here  he  comes,"  said  Phil;  and  Grizzly  Dan  was 
in  sight,  wending  his  way  at  a  canter,  on  his  spotted 
pony,  following  the  course  of  the  stream. 

The  ready  Bonita  dashed  forward;  the  pups 
yapped;  Brownie  vented  a  lugubrious  "Hee-haw,"  at 
which  the  spotted  pony  laid  back  his  ears  as  if  irri- 
tated; old  Dan  lifted  fringed  buckskin  arm  in  his  cus- 
tomary salute. 

"How?"  he  greeted.     "Xpec'  you  must  be  plumb 


84  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

empty.  Hyar's  a  coon  who's  filled  his  meat-bag 
twice  since  sun-up;  but  he's  wolfish  agin,  he  air. 
What's  the  sign?" 

"Found  some  more  float,  Jim's  panned  out  a  small 
placer,  and  Chet  picked  up  the  biggest  elk  horns  we 
ever  saw,"  reported  Phil.  "Look  at  'em! — tall  as  we 
are!" 

"Wagh!"  grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "Must  be  off  a 
medicine  elk,  shore.  No  common  critter  wore  horns 
like  that." 

"I  found  a  five-hundred-dollar  nugget,  too," 
grinned  Chet.  "Only  when  we  showed  it  to  Jim  it 
was  just  iron  pyrites  and  wasn't  worth  five  cents!" 

Grizzly  Dan  gravely  nodded  his  shaggy  head. 

"Shorely,"  he  confirmed.  "That  war  medicine 
gold.  I  know  it  well.  If  you  only  had  the  right 
words  an'  yore  own  medicine  war  strong,  you  could 
turn  it  back  agin.  All  this  hyar  air  medicine  country, 
an*  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  lots  o'  things  happened 
'fore  we  find  that  Frapp  mine.  Shouldn't  wonder  if 
the  critter  who  wore  those  thar  horns  war  Old  Four- 
Toes,  the  big  medicine  b'ar,  in  another  shape.  We 
thought  we  saw  him  wiped  out  by  the  buff'ler  fight, 
over  t'other  side  o'  Warrior  Peak,  last  summer,  you 
remember.  Wall,  he  jest  changed  shape;  an*  now 
hyar  he  air,  on  Red  Chief,  watchin'  us." 

"But  those  horns  must  have  been  dropped  in  the 
spring,"  argued  Chet.  "Spring  is  the  time  when  deer 
and  elk  shed  their  horns." 

Grizzly  Dan  shrugged  his  shoulders,  unabashed. 

"Doesn't  matter,"  he  declared.     "Medicine  elk  can 


ALL  THAT  GLITTERS  IS  NOT  GOLD    85 

shed  his  horns  any  time,  an'  grow  'em  any  time. 
Wall,"  he  continued,  "pot's  on  the  fire — an'  thar's 
more  strangers  in  the  country.  So  let's  be  gettin' 
into  camp." 

"More  strangers?"  exclaimed  the  boys,  as  old  Dan 
led  off. 

"Yep.  I've  crossed  fresh  pony  tracks  several  times 
to-day,  an'  :I  saw  a  moccasin  print  in  the  sand. 
We're  liable  to  have  visitors  to-night." 

"Must  be  Utes  in  here  hunting,"  said  Chet. 
"They're  likely  to  act  mean,  too !" 

"We'll  be  ready  for  'em,"  remarked  Grizzly  Dan, 
grimly,  riding  easily  but  with  keen  outlook  under  his 
bushy  eyebrows  shaded  by  his  flapping-brimmed  hat. 


CHAPTER   VII 

CHARLEY    POW-WOW'S    WARNING 

THE  new  camp  had  been  established  upstream  a 
short  distance,  by  a  spring.  Here  Dan's  brass  pot  was 
hanging  over  the  fire,  and  near  at  hand  were  grazing 
Medicine  Eye  and  Pepper  and  Cotton-tail  and  Betty 
the  dun  mule.  The  moment  Flapjack  Jim  unpacked 
Brownie,  he  (Brownie,  of  course)  trotted,  with  ears 
flat  and  nose  out,  straight  for  the  pasture,  where  he 
scattered  the  occupants  right  and  left  and  investigated 
one  choice  spot  after  another.  Having  thus  resumed 
his  mastership  he  ' 'Hee-hawed"  triumphantly,  and 
rolled. 

The  sun  sank  behind  Red  Chief.  The  high  places 
remained  light,  but  from  the  low  places  welled  the 
evening  shadows,  and  gradually  spread.  Everybody 
in  camp  was  tired;  even  the  pups,  for  they  sprawled 
lax  in  Chet's  and  Phil's  laps  while  the  boys  named 
them. 

One  was  "Woof,"  because  he  had  a  queer  little 
bark,  deep  in  his  throat.  One  was  "Rags,"  because 
his  coat  was  uncommonly  long  and  shaggy.  One 
was  "Nig,"  because  he  seemed  not  to  have  a  white 
hair  on  him.  And  one  was  "Limpy,"  because  he 
favored  a  foot  which  he  must  have  hurt  in  the  brush. 

Grizzly  Dan  and  Flapjack  Jim  were  squatting  by 
the  fire,  puffing  their  pipes  and  exchanging  reminis- 

86 


CHARLEY  POW-WOW'S  WARNING      87 

cences.  The  horse  and  mule  herd  was  gently  grazing, 
a  short  distance  away.  Brownie  the  burro  had  edged 
in  closf r  and  was  nosing  about,  like  a  dog,  for  scraps. 
He  appeared  much  to  prefer  scraps  of  meat,  potato, 
and  other  table  stuff,  to  grass. 

All  was  peaceful,  when  suddenly  Bonita  growled, 
the  pups  awoke  with  a  jump,  to  bark,  and  old  Dan, 
grasping  his  long  rifle,  straightened  with  a  guttural 
"Wagh!"  He  sat  alert.  Phil  felt  for  his  carbine, 
lying  beside  him;  Chet  for  his  rifle.  Flapjack  Jim 
listened,  intent,  and  Bonita  growled  louder.  There 
was  clatter  of  hoof,  a  splashing  in  the  stream,  and 
through  it  and  up  the  bank,  into  the  camp,  rode  three 
figures. 

"Injuns!"  muttered  Grizzly  Dan,  moving  only  to 
gaze. 

Indians  they  were:  a  young  man  in  sombrero  and 
calico  shirt  and  overalls  leading,  rifle  across  saddle- 
horn;  behind  him  two  boys,  in  buckskin  leggins,  their 
slender  bodies  bare,  bows  in  their  hands.  They  rode 
without  saddles;  the  left  arm  of  one  was  roughly 
bandaged;  behind  the  other  was  tied  a  long,  limp  car- 
cass. 

"Huh!     Charley  Pow-wow!"  grunted  Chet. 

Sure  enough.  Phil  felt  relieved,  although  he  had 
not  been  afraid.  Charley  Pow-wow,  son  of  aged 
Chief  Billy  of  the  Ute  Indians,  was  an  old  acquaint- 
ance and  several  times  had  proved  to  be  a  friend.  He 
had  been  educated  in  a  school;  now  he  lived  with  his 
tribe  on  the  Reservation;  and  so  he  was  a  mixture  of 
white  mind  and  red  mind. 


88  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

As  the  three  riders  drew  nearer,  the  horse  and  mule 
herd  snorted,  Brownie  the  burro  pricked  his  long  ears 
and  stared,  the  pups  showed  two  hearts, — one  that 
made  them  bark  bravely  and  one  that  made  them  run 
cowardly, — and  Grizzly  Dan,  standing,  leaning  upon 
his  flintlock  and  waiting,  received  the  callers  with  the 
usual  "How?" 

"How?"  they  responded.  They  nimbly  dismounted, 
and  leaving  their  ponies  they  advanced  on  foot  to  the 
fire. 

"Hello,  Charley,"  spoke  Chet  and  Phil,  shaking 
hands  with  him. 

He  was  a  solemn- faced,  broad- faced,  dark-faced 
youth,  in  farmer  costume,  but  with  two  braids  down 
his  back.  He  shook  hands  all  round,  and  with  sober 
visage  and  with  "Hows"  repeated,  the  two  boys,  his 
companions,  also  shook  hands  all  round. 

"We  know  them,"  asserted  Chet,  boldly.  "They're 
the  same  two  we  met  on  the  trail  to  the  village,  last 
summer,  when  we  rescued  the  Professor  and  Cherry 
and  Molly  and  Pete.  Remember,  Phil?  We  almost 
had  a  fracas  with  'em,  and  Dan  arrived  just  in  time." 

"Sure.     I  remember,"  confirmed  Phil. 

And  so  he  did.  The  slimmer,  lighter  of  the  twain 
could  speak  English;  the  other,  who  was  stockier  and 
darker  and  more  sullen,  couldn't  or  wouldn't.  The 
darker  one  now  wore  the  bandaged  arm.  The  leggins 
of  both  were  only  imitation  buckskin,  being  cloth 
trousers  sewed  along  the  seams  with  flannel  fringes. 
The  weapons  carried  were  bows  and  arrows.  But 
poor  as  was  this  equipment,  something  in  the  grave 


CHARLEY  POW-WOW'S  WARNING      89 

bearing  of  the  two  youths  gave  them  a  new  atmos- 
phere of  manly  pride. 

"Maybe.  I  cannot  say,"  replied  Charley  Pow-wow, 
cautious  not  to  admit  anything.  "This  one  Tony," 
and  he  indicated  the  dark,  stocky  boy ;  "this  one  Fran- 
cisco," and  he  indicated  the  light,  slim  boy.  "We  are 
hunting." 

"Got  something,  too,  didn't  you?"  queried  Phil. 
"Tied  on  that  hawss?" 

"It  is  a  mountain  lion,"  informed  Charley.  "Fran- 
cisco and  Tony  track  him,  into  a  hole.  When  they  go 
in  after  him,  before  they  kill  him  with  their  knives 
he  bites  Tony  in  the  arm.  Then  Francisco  stabs  him 
through  the  heart." 

"Wagh!  Heap  braves!"  approved  Grizzly  Dan. 
"Those  thar  boys  '11  make  warriors."  And  in  the  In- 
dian tongue  he  spoke  a  few  words  that  made  the  eyes 
of  Tony  and  Francisco  flash.  But  they  kept  their 
faces  unmoved. 

"Yis,  anybody,  man  or  boy,  who'll  tackle  a  cougar 
in  a  hole,  with  only  bow-an'-arrow  an'  knife,  shows 
the  rale  spunk!"  declared  Flapjack  Jim. 

"Let's  look  at  it,"  proposed  Chet. 

He  and  Phil  inspected  the  dead  lion.  He  was  a 
tremendous  big  fellow,  flanks  and  nose  almost  touch- 
ing the  ground  on  either  side  of  the  pony's  heels.  An 
arrow  was  still  buried  to  the  feather  in  his  chest,  and 
a  knife  stab  showed  darkly  red. 

When  they  returned  to  the  fire  the  three  Indians 
were  eating,  at  Dan's  invitation.  Their  curiosity  had 
been  excited  by  the  immense  elk  horns. 


90  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"That  is  a  very  large  elk,"  was  saying  Charley. 
"He  has  always  lived  on  this  mountain.  My  people 
think  that  he  is  the  big  medicine  here.  He  is  not  a 
regular  elk.  He  is  the  spirit  of  some  great  warrior, 
maybe ;  or  maybe  he  is  just  magic,  what  we  call  medi- 
cine. He  owns  this  mountain.  It  is  his  country.  He 
does  not  like  that  people  should  come  on  it." 

"I  knew  he  war  somebody  'special,"  nodded  Grizzly 
Dan.  "But  we'll  smoke  to  him  an'  tell  him  we  mean 
no  harm." 

"You  are  going  to  the  top,"  accused  Charley.  "You 
must  not.  You  will  never  get  there,  and  if  you  do 
you  will  never  come  down  again.  Nobody  can  ex- 
plore this  mountain.  It  is  bad  to  those  who  try.  You 
are  prospecting,  and  that  is  the  worst  thing  of  all.  You 
will  think  you  find  gold  and  it  will  turn  to  iron  or 
dead  leaves  and  sticks;  and  you  will  be  driven  back, 
or  maybe  be  killed,  by  water  and  snow  and  hunger. 
The  old  men  in  my  tribe  know,  and  all  the  Indians 
know ;  and  the  mountain  has  been  the  same  for  many, 
many  years.  It  is  bad  medicine — what  you  call  bad 
luck." 

"Did  yez  never  hear  o'  that  wonderful  rich  mine, 
on  the  top?"  asked  Flapjack  Jim. 

Charley  gazed  somberly  at  him. 

"Yes.  That  is  the  Trapper's  Mine.  But  my  peo- 
ple knew  of  it  long  before  any  white  man  did.  And 
long  before  the  Americans  saw  this  mountain,  other 
whites  had  been  here,  digging  for  gold.  I  have  seen 
their  sign.  But  they  did  not  stay.  Something  very 
bad  happened  to  them,  and  drove  them  away,  you 
bet." 


THE    BIG    KING    APPEARS. 


CHARLEY  POW-WOW'S  WARNING      91 

"Ould  Spanish  workin's,  belike/'  quoth  Flapjack 
Jim.  "The  Spaniards  from  the  south  prospected  all 
through  the  Rockies,  b'  gorry,  ere  yet  the  United 
States  extended  west  o'  the  Atlantic  Ocean." 

"I  do  not  know,"  responded  Charley.  "But  we 
would  not  hunt  here  except  that  our  people  are  hun- 
gry and  game  is  scarce.  You  had  better  not  climb 
further,  and  those  men  on  the  other  side  of  that  ridge 
had  better  not  climb  further." 

"Saw  those  three  hostiles,  did  you?"  queried 
Grizzly  Dan,  quickly. 

Charley  nodded.  "There  are  three  men  looking  for 
gold,  just  like  you  are.  But  they  are  what  we  call 
bad  whites ;  one  of  them  is  the  man  who  played  traitor 
to  your  party  last  summer,  when  he  came  to  my  peo- 
ple and  said  that  you  were  out  of  food  and  ammuni- 
tion. But  we  did  not  think  any  more  of  him  for  that. 
He  is  there  and  two  other  men,  and  climbing  fast. 
The  mountain  will  take  care  of  them,  very  quickly. 
But  you  are  my  friends  and  so  I  want  you  to  turn 
back." 

"Wagh!"  ejaculated  Grizzly  Dan.  "Gettin'  ahead 
of  us,  air  they?  I  ought  to  have  scouted  over  there, 
to-day." 

"They  are  climbing  fast,"  repeated  Charley. 

"Aw,  shucks!"  deplored  Chet. 

"An'  faith,  we'll  climb  faster,  then,"  asserted  the 
little  man,  promptly.  "They've  got  the  shtapest, 
weVe  got  the  'asiest.  Hooray!" 

"That's  right,"  spoke  Phil.     "We'll  race  'em." 

The  three  Indians  had  now  finished  the  supper. 
Charley  stood. 


92  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"We  must  go,"  he  said.  "We  have  a  camp  that  is 
quite  a  way  from  here,  and  it  is  not  good  to  ride  far, 
on  this  mountain,  after  dark.  The  mountain  is  medi- 
cine mountain,  and  does  not  want  people  on  it.  So 
I  have  warned  you.  Whatever  you  find,  you  must 
not  trust  in  it.  Good-by.  Maybe  I  will  see  you 
again,  maybe  not.  As  for  those  other  prospectors,  let 
them  climb.  It  will  be  good  riddance.  You  who 
stay  behind  will  be  better  off.  Good-by." 

"Good-by.  Much  obliged,  Charley,"  responded  the 
two  boys. 

"Good-by,  good-by,"  bade  the  young  Indians  has- 
tily. They  had  only  eaten  silently,  and  held  them- 
selves proudly,  and  Tony  had  paid  not  the  slightest 
attention  to  the  pangs  of  his  wounded  arm. 

"Sure,  we'll  see  yez  later  an'  tell  yez  about  it," 
exclaimed  Flapjack  Jim. 

"Adios,  adios,"  grunted  old  Dan. 

Away  through  the  dusk  rode  the  three.  They  left 
the  camp  a  camp  excited. 

"Well,"  chirped  the  little  man,  "now  I  do  believe 
we'll  be  pushin'  on  for  the  top,  an'  niver  mind  the 
float  so  much.  B'gorry,  we'll  not  shtop  for  any  com- 
mon bit  of  a  pay  streak,  like  we  fooled  with  this  day, 
an*  we'll  not  shtop  for  any  surface  indication  liss  than 
a  blowout  so  yellow  with  gould  that  it  blinds  us  an' 
we  can't  get  past.  To  the  top  o'  the  mountain,  my 
boys;  to  the  top  o'  the  mountain." 

"That's  fine  talk,"  grumbled  Grizzly  Dan,  "but 
hyar's  a  coon  who  knows  the  value  o'  sign  on  the 
trail,  an*  he  knows  it  air  a  long  trail  to  the  scalplock  o' 


CHARLEY  POW-WOW'S  WARNING      93 

Red  Chief.  Got  to  have  water,  an'  got  to  savvy  a 
leetle  how  we're  headin'.  Won't  do  to  disregard  that 
float  sign  altogether,  will  it?  Or  do  'ee  calkilate 
on  other  sign?  This  hyar  map  o'  ourn  don't  tell 
much." 

"The  proper  way  be  to  follow  the  float,  jist  as  I 
have  said.  That  float  will  lade  as  surely  as  the  tracks 
o'  Injun  lodge-poles.  If  you  an'  the  lads  '11  be  lookin' 
along  for  wather  an'  wood  an'  such  like,  I'll  kape  my 
eye  out  for  surface  indications  so  we  won't  be  lost 
entirely,  entirely.  For  I  expect  I  can  rade  such  sign 
faster  than  you ;  an'  it  may  be  you  with  your  two  legs 
an'  your  hosses  can  travel  wider  than  can  I  with  my 
wan  leg  an'  a  shtump,  an'  an  ould  burro." 

So  it  was  agreed. 

The  night  had  enfolded  the  mighty  mountain  and 
all  the  little  things — stream  and  rocks  and  trees  and 
human  camps — dotting  it.  Dan  and  Jim  and  Phil  and 
Chet,  Bonita  and  her  pups,  and  Brownie  the  com- 
panionable burro  (dozing  by  the  low  fire),  sought 
their  sleep,  each  after  his  (or  her)  fashion. 

"Jiminy,  but  that  was  a  big  old  lion,  wasn't  it!" 
murmured  Chet,  drowsily,  when  he  and  Phil  had 
tucked  themselves  under  their  prized  buffalo  robe — 
a  gift  from  Grizzly  Dan. 

"He  shore  was,"  agreed  Phil,  broadly.  "And  those 
young  Injuns  were  some  plucky  to  go  in  after  him. 
Now  they  think  they're  braves,  I  reckon." 

"Listen!"  prompted  Chet. 

High  and  mournful,  on  the  chill  dark  rose  the 
long  howl  of  a  wolf — and  another — and,  another, 


94  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

merging.  Together  they  made  a  weirdly  musical 
chorus.  Bonita  growled;  the  pups,  hastily  wakened, 
barked  confused  and  silly. 

"Thar  they  be,  the  black  fellows,"  quoth  old  Dan, 
through  the  glimmer  from  the  fire.  "Wagh!  Hear 
'em,  will  ye!" 

"The  hunting  call,  isn't  it?"  asked  Phil.  "They 
must  be  on  the  trail  of  something." 

"No,  boy;  doesn't  sound  like  huntin'  call,  to  me.  I 
'xpec'  it  air  a  warnin'  'bout  this  hyar  medicine  moun- 
tain we're  goin'  to  climb.  All  right,  brother,"  cried 
old  Dan,  speaking  to  the  black  wolves.  "Thank  'ee. 
We'll  tend  to  our  traps  an'  you  tend  to  yourn,  an' 
don't  you  cross  our  trail.  Awik  kados  na-im-a-awah- 
pu;  awik  pin-ee-wo-mas."  And  with  this  conclusion 
in  some  Indian  tongue  from  his  extensive  knowledge 
old  Dan,  grunting,  composed  as  for  sleep. 

"What  did  you  tell  them,  Dan?"  invited  Phil,  too 
curious  to  hold  back  the  question. 

"Told  'em  we  had  four  pups  o'  their  clan  hyar,  as 
hostages;  so  they'd  better  keep  the  peace." 

"Good!"  praised  Chet,  in  a  drowsy  voice. 

Then  suddenly  pealed  through  the  lonely  darkness 
another  wild  call.  Vibrant  and  fiercely  musical  it  rang 
like  a  trumpet  in  one  piercing  note,  crescendo,  thrice 
repeated,  rousing  the  whole  camp.  The  darkness 
echoed  with  it. 

"Elk!"  cried  Chet,  in  the  hush  that  followed.  "Big 
bull  elk." 

"Thar  he  is !"  asserted  old  Dan.  "Thar's  the  medi- 
cine elk  for  'ee!  Wagh!" 


CHARLEY  POW-WOW'S  WARNING      95 

"B'jabers!"  uttered  Flapjack  Jim.  "Maybe  he's 
lookin'  for  his  horns." 

Phil  involuntarily  quivered,  so  intense  had  been  the 
challenging  call,  and  now  so  intense  was  the  ensuing 
silence.  But  although  they  listened  hard,  the  call  was 
not  repeated. 

"That's  shorely  a  boss  elk,"  pronounced  Chet. 
"He's  shut  up  the  wolves." 

And  the  camp  slept. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE    BIG    KING    APPEARS 

AT  the  breaking  of  another  day  they  made  their 
preparations  to  push  on  up  Red  Chief  to  the  cross  on 
his  high  crest.  With  a  sigh  of  pleasure  Phil  plumped 
into  the  saddle  of  Pepper;  and  Chet,  plumping  like- 
wise into  the  saddle  of  Medicine  Eye,  supplemented 
the  sigh  with  a  grunt. 

"This  is  better  than  walking,"  observed  Phil,  as 
they  rode  forth  together. 

"Wagh !  Don't  like  walking,  me,"  responded  Chet, 
with  combination  speech  of  white  Injun  and  cow- 
boy. 

They  had  exchanged  pick  and  spade  for  rifle  again ; 
and  from  prospectors  became  scouts,  on  their  faith- 
ful mounts  of  the  old  Bar  B  horse  herd  they  had  been 
assigned  to  locate  the  next  water  and  camping  spot, 
above.  Bonita  and  her  pups  accompanied  them,  but 
Cotton-tail,  bearing  the  pack,  was  left  to  follow  in  the 
separate  trail  of  Grizzly  Dan,  his  spotted  pony,  and 
Betty  the  dun  mule.  As  for  Flapjack  Jim  and 
Brownie,  they  seemed  perfectly  capable  of  making 
their  own  way,  at  their  own  pace,  on  their  own  busi- 
ness. The  signal,  at  evening,  for  camp  would  be  a 
rifle  shot  or  a  smoke. 

Riding  light,  the  boys  set  out.  They  were  to  pro- 
ceed straight  up;  Flapjack  Jim  was  to  take  more  of 

96 


THE  BIG  KING  APPEARS  97 

a  middle  course,  between  the  present  camp  and  the 
ridge,  for  in  his  opinion  (and  according  to  Phil's  ex- 
perience) the  float  lay  in  this  direction;  Grizzly  Dan 
and  the  pack  animals,  traveling  slower,  would  skirt 
the  ridge;  and  if  the  boys  did  not  find  a  spring  within 
reasonable  distance  they  were  to  oblique  across  and 
scout  the  advance  there  also. 

At  methodical  pace  they  rode — rifle  and  car- 
bine upon  saddle-horn,  bridle-hands  watchful  of  any 
stumble,  bodies  swaying  easily  to  the  movements  of 
the  horses,  eyes  on  the  lookout  for  "sign."  Pepper 
and  Medicine  Eye  puffed  and  wheezed,  but  they  were 
not  being  forced,  and  their  wheezes  meant  nothing. 

The  climb  was  only  a  gradual  one,  made  in  a  zig- 
zag as  the  horses  picked  their  way  by  the  easier 
courses.  The  sun  flashed  his  first  beams  of  the  day 
athwart  the  mountain-side.  He  revealed  brightly  the 
ruddy  rocks  and  gravel,  sparse  brush,  a  few  stunted 
cedars,  composing  the  undulating  surface  of  Red 
Chief.  Below,  unfolded  the  wide  reaches,  dark  green 
with  patches  of  emerald  from  the  quaking  asps  and 
of  gray  from  the  craggy  uplifts,  of  Lost  Park,  ex- 
tending on  to  slumbering  Warrior  Peak.  Above, 
waited  the  white  cross  and  (perhaps)  the  Frapp 
Mine.  To  the  right  were  Flapjack  Jim  and  Brownie 
his  burro,  on  the  float  trail,  and  Grizzly  Dan,  with 
the  packs,  on  another  scout.  Flapjack  Jim  could  just 
be  descried,  a  toiling  speck;  but  Dan  and  the  animals 
were  out  of  sight.  Presently  Jim  also  was  out  of 
sight.  The  mountain  apparently  belonged  to  the  two 
boys. 


98  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

As  said,  the  flank  was  not  a  continuous  slope. 
Mountains  are  not  built  that  way — at  least,  not  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  It  was  an  undulating  slope;  now 
ascending,  now  descending,  now  on  the  level,  but  of 
course  always  leading  higher,  as  from  step  to  step. 
Entering  one  of  those  dips  that  formed  a  pass  from 
climb  to  climb,  Phil  called  ba<;k  abruptly  to  Chet: 

"Somebody's  been  prospecting  here,  ahead  of 
us!" 

"What  do  you  see?" 

"Holes,  is  all.    Old  ones.5" 

Chet  came  on  the  trot. 

"I  should  say!"  he  agreed  promptly.  "Regular 
tunnel,  too,  and  a  dump." 

Before,  the  breast  of  a  sharp  rise  forming  another 
wave  in  the  series  of  undulations  showed  a  number 
of  excavations — one  of  them  with  a  mouth  rather 
regular  in  shape  and  a  long  pile  of  dirt  under  it. 

Halting,  the  boys  listened  and  surveyed.  But  there 
was  no  sound,  there  was  no  movement,  and  in  the 
soil  there  was  no  trail  or  other  sign. 

"She's  an  old  prospect,  all  right,"  quoth  Chet. 
"Come  on.  Let's  see." 

And  they  rode  forward.    At  the  dump  they  halted. 

"It's  shore  a  tunnel.  See  the  timbers?  Must  go 
in  quite  a  way,"  and  Chet  swung  to  the  ground. 
"Somebody  left  a  ladder  for  us,  anyhow." 

Dropping  the  lines  over  Medicine  Eye's  head,  rifle 
in  hand  he  trudged  briskly  around  the  dump. 

The  tunnel  entrance  was  ten  feet  up,  on  a  level 
with  a  small  ledge.  A  rough  ladder,  of  poles  and 


THE  BIG  KING  APPEARS  99 

stout  rounds,  leaned  from  the  ground  up  to  the  ledge 
beside  the  tunnel.  But  at  Chet's  confident  touch  it 
collapsed,  falling  with  a  swish  to  make  only  a  little 
pile  of  splinters.  Phil  arrived  just  in  time  to  witness 
the  presto,  change — and  to  behold  Chet  gazing,  aston- 
ished. 

"Plumb  busted/'  announced  Chet,  foolishly.  "Lucky 
I  wasn't  on  it." 

"Wonder  how  long  it'd  been  here,  then  ?" 

"Kin  savvy,"  responded  Chet — the  cowboy  version 
of  "Quien  sabe ?"— Spanish  for  "Who  knows?"  "It 
was  cedar,  and  cedar  lasts  forever.  Whoever  left  it 
was  mighty  careless.  I  blamed  near  broke  my  neck," 
and  Chet,  indignant,  wagged  his  head. 

"Well,  reckon  the  person  who  left  it  there  didn't 
look  forward  to  your  coming  along,"  laughed  Phil. 
"Let's  climb  the  dump." 

So  they  did.  The  dump,  in  the  beginning  com- 
posed of  loose  dirt  and  rock,  was  packed  solid  by 
weather — another  token  of  age.  Almost  on  hands  and 
knees  up  they  went;  Bonita  came  scrambling  after, 
but  the  pups,  awkward,  slipped  and  sprawled  in  their 
efforts. 

Now  out  of  the  top  of  the  dump,  which  formed 
a  platform  in  front  of  the  tunnel  mouth,  was  grow- 
ing a  thick-trunked  cedar. 

"Look  at  that  tree,  will  yuh !"  directed  Phil.  "That 
shows  how  old  this  prospect  is.  Must  be  several  hun- 
dred years.  Huh!  Guess  we  aren't  jumping  any- 
body's claim.  Must  be  some  of  those  old  prospect 
signs  that  Charley  Pow-wow  spoke  of." 


ioo  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Within  the  tunnel  could  be  traced  rude  timber  sup- 
ports— hewn  logs  for  the  uprights  and  for  the  cross- 
pieces. 

"They  cut  those  timbers  around  here,  and  the  other 
trees  have  grown  up  since,"  reasoned  Phil.  "Cedar, 
aren't  they?" 

"Look  so.  Mighty  big  ones.  Expect  this  cedar 
here  on  the  dump  was  a  seed  dropped." 

"Hope  the  tunnel  doesn't  fall  on  us,"  said  Phil, 
cautiously  stepping  in.  And —  "Hello!  Here's  a 
spade !"  he  cried. 

So  it  was :  an  ancient,  cumbersome  spade,  with  long 
handle  that  had  wasted  away  to  a  brittle  thread  and 
with  heavy,  round-edged  blade  which  evidently  had 
been  hammered  into  shape.  The  metal  looked  not  un- 
like copper,  rather  than  iron.  The  spade  was  leaning 
against  the  tunnel  wall,  where  a  shadow  had  partially 
concealed  it.  Beside  it  were  the  remains  of  a  stubby 
pick,  equally  as  ancient. 

"Huh!  Somebody  forgot  his  tools,  all  right,"  ut- 
tered Chet.  "But  they're  not  much  good  now." 

And  they  weren't,  to  the  practical  eye;  but  to  Phil 
they  appealed  as  great  relics.  "Maybe  we'll  find 
something  else,"  he  said  in  an  undertone,  and  advanc- 
ing softly,  for  he  felt  like  an  intruder. 

The  gloom  of  the  tunnel  increased  rapidly;  he 
peered  right  and  left,  rather  anticipating  seeing  a  sack 
of  gold,  or  perhaps  a  mummy,  when  suddenly  the  tun- 
nel closed  against  him. 

"Here's  a  cave-in,"  he  reported  back.  "With  an- 
other ladder  leading  up  somewhere." 


THE  BIG  KING  APPEARS  101 

"Shucks!"  protested  Chet.  "Thete  might ie  a-iqt 
of  good  stuff  beyond  there."  ,>,;• 

It  occurred  to  Phil  that  perhaps  beyond  ihe  cavern 
were  some  of  the  miners,  who  had  been  cut  off.  But 
of  course  they  weren't  alive  now,  after  all  these  years ! 
Nevertheless,  if  this  was  a  medicine  mountain,  who 
could  tell?  In  spite  of  the  age  of  those  tools,  it  did 
seem  as  though  people  had  just  been  working  here, 
and  had  quit  for  a  few  hours. 

He  and  Chet  stood  surveying  the  cave-in,  and  the 
half -buried  foot  of  the  ladder  which  slanted  up 
through  a  small  hole. 

"Gee,  I'd  like  to  get  in  there,"  spoke  Chet,  fear- 
lessly. "Wish  we  had  candles  with  us!  These  must 
be  some  old  Spanish  workings;  rich,  too,  by  the  size 
of  that  dump.  Maybe  we  ought  to  tell  Dan  and  Jim 
and  bring  them  in.  I'd  like  to  pan  samples  of  that 
dump.  Don't  see  any  vein  or  pay  streak,  do  you? 
We're  the  first  in  here  for  a  hundred  or  so  years,  I 
reckon.  What'll  we  do?  File  on  it?  It's  our  claim, 
if  we  want  it." 

"Let's  take  the  shovel  and  pick,  anyway,"  proposed 
Phil — and  even  then  he  was  somewhat  ashamed,  for 
he  imagined  that  behind  the  cave-in  the  owners  were 
listening.  But  of  course  they  weren't. 

"Aw,  that  old  shovel  and  pick?"  scoffed  the  prac- 
tical Chet.  "What  do  you  want  of  those?  Wish  we 
could  find  that  vein  they  were  following." 

"It  isn't  the  Frapp  Mine,  anyhow,"  said  Phil, 
slowly.  "So  I  suppose  we'd  better  leave  it  and  keep 
going,  or  we'll  never  get  anywhere." 


102  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Bueno/!  approved  the  ready  Chet,  brought  into  the 
trail  again.  "We  can  come  and  open  her  up  later." 
*Then—  "Listen!"  he  exclaimed.  "Hear  the  pups? 
Something  else,  too!  Bear!" 

Outside,  at  the  foot  of  the  dump,  the  pups  were 
yapping  wildly;  with  their  yaps  mingled  a  loud  snort. 
Away,  for  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  darted  Bonita; 
after  her  pelted  the  two  boys,  thumbs  on  hammers 
of  carbine  and  rifle.  Out  into  the  daylight  they  burst; 
growling,  Bonita  plunged  over  the  edge  of  the  dump, 
to  the  support  of  her  children.  Halting,  and  glancing 
about,  the  boys  instantly  saw  what  was  the  matter. 

The  bench  or  terrace  lying  before  the  ancient  work- 
ings extended  like  a  flat  little  park  sprinkled  with  low 
cedars  and  brush  growing  from  the  red  surface.  At 
one  end  it  rounded  the  hill  into  whose  breast  the 
miners  of  long  ago  had  picked  and  drilled;  the  other 
end  narrowed  to  form  a  small  pass  between  two  low 
backs  sparsely  wooded.  And  here  he  stood,  oc- 
casionally snorting — the  largest  elk  to  be  imagined! 

"Jiminy !"  grasped  Chet,  and  his  rifle  leaped  to  his 
shoulder,  his  tanned  cheek  pressed  to  the  stock. 

"Don't,  Chet!  Don't!"  begged  Phil,  hand  neatly 
covering  the  rear  sight.  "Wait !  That's  the  big  king 
elk,  isn't  he?" 

"Aw — !"  muttered  Chet,  yielding,  and  lowering  his 
rifle.  "He  shore  is.  Guess  I  won't  shoot  him,  then. 
Might  be  bad  medicine." 

"It  would  be  a  shame  to  kill  him,  anyhow," 
breathed  Phil,  fascinated.  "Whew,  what  a  whopper! 
Look  at  those  horns!" 


THE  BIG  KING  APPEARS  103 

With  those  tremendous  horns,  fully  a  match  for 
the  discarded  pair  picked  up  by  Chet,  the  great  elk 
stood  apparently  as  high  as  a  giraffe.  A  lordly  crea- 
ture he  was,  poised,  fronting  them,  head  up,  in  the 
little  pass.  His  condition,  in  this  the  fall  of  the  year, 
was  at  its  best;  he  showed  no  fear;  he  stared  with 
round  eyes,  he  pawed,  and  the  breath  whistled  through 
his  wide  nostrils. 

The  snorts  of  the  horses  answered  his,  the  pups 
yapped,  dashing  forth  and  back  again,  Bonita  growled 
louder — and  on  a  sudden  the  elk,  stretching  out  his 
nose,  trumpeted  his  challenge. 

What  a  blast  he  blew,  ringing  shrill  and  resonant 
until  the  whole  mountain  echoed.  To  these  invaders 
of  his  solitudes  he  seemed  to  demand,  "Who  are  you, 
and  what  do  you  want?" 

This  whistle  broke  the  charm.  It  set  Medicine  Eye 
and  Pepper  to  plunging,  it  set  the  pups  to  dashing 
more  impudently,  and  it  made  Bonita  charge  forward, 
barking  angrily. 

"Here,  Bonita!  Bonita!"  shouted  Phil,  as  the  elk 
lowered  head  and  horns,  to  repel  attack. 

"She'll  be  killed — and  those  pups  too!"  exclaimed 
Chet.  "Let's  get  to  the  hawsses." 

Down  the  dump  he  sprang,  sliding  and  striding; 
down  sprang  the  anxious  Phil. 

"Here,  Bonita!  Whoa,  there,  Pepper!  Whoa, 
Medicine  Eye!" 

Bonita,  half  circling  the  elk,  was  savagely  barking; 
her  pups  imitated  her;  the  elk,  snorting,  guarded  with 
his  thicket  of  horns — when,  abruptly,  at  sight  of  the 


104  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

boys  sliding  down  the  dump,  with  quick  toss  of  head 
he  had  whirled  and  was  away,  out  through  the  little 
pass.  Clamoring  and  excited,  after  him  trailed,  with 
frantic  zeal,  the  dogs. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    WONDER   FOREST 

"BONITA!  Bonita!  Here!"  vainly  shrieked  Phil. 
But  Chet,  with  a  "Get  after  'em!  They'll  be  killed, 
sure,  if  that  old  elk  ever  turns  on  'em!"  rushed  for 
the  horses. 

Grabbing  the  lines,  into  the  saddle  of  Medicine  Eye 
he  piled.  Phil  was  scarce  a  second  later.  Away  they 
went,  on  the  trail  of  the  chase.  They  were  none  too 
quick.  Already  the  barks  and  yaps  were  growing 
faint  and  confused,  so  headlong  was  the  pace  of  pack 
and  quarry. 

Through  the  little  pass  leading  off  from  the  an- 
cient prospect  property  pelted  at  top  speed  the  good 
cow-horses  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye;  their  riders 
recklessly  urged  them  on.  The  country  opened  out. 
Chet,  just  in  the  advance,  and  Phil,  pressing  him 
close  (for  Pepper  was  the  faster  horse),  scanned 
eagerly  before. 

What  they  saw  was  a  new  phase  of  Red  Chief. 
Ahead,  and  extending  above  and  below  and  on  either 
hand,  was  an  enormous  basin,  broken  by  red  crags, 
darkened  by  evergreen  timber,  and  enclosed  by 
broken  walls.  It  was  almost  like  a  great  crater,  or  a 
cave-in,  where  trees  had  sprung  up.  And  wild  in  the 
extreme  it  appeared — yes,  so  sudden  and  unexpected 
that  it  might  have  been  an  enchantment,  with  its 

105 


io6  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

greens  and  reds,  its  lights  and  shadows,  its  vastness 
and  its  silence.  Like  a  wizard's  castle,  the  distant 
crest  of  Red  Chief  brooded  over. 

In  this  enormous  rugged  basin  the  big  elk  and  his 
pursuers  had  been  swallowed.  The  boys  peered 
vainly,  listened  vainly.  As  Phil's  eyes  swept  the  land- 
scape, they  caught  a  flashing,  glittering  spot,  as  if 
of  sun  being  reflected  from  factory  windows.  But 
there  was  no  time  to  comment  on  the  fact,  for  the 
hoof  prints  of  the  elk  were  fairly  plain,  and  now  at 
a  trot  so  as  not  to  overrun  the  "sign,"  Chet  and  he 
must  follow  the  trail. 

The  pace  had  been  too  hot  for  the  pups.  Within 
a  short  distance  the  boys  overtook  Limpy,  lying  pant- 
ing and  whimpering.  He  was  glad  to  see  them. 
Farther  on  they  overtook  Woof,  toiling  heavily  along, 
spent  but  still  hopeful.  Soon  were  encountered  Rags 
and  Nig,  struggling  amidst  some  brush,  like  stranded 
fish. 

The  four  pups  fell  in  behind  the  horses,  and  all 
proceeded. 

"Wheet,  wheet,  wheet!"  whistled  the  boys,  now 
seeking  Bonita  herself.  Presently,  trotting  heavily 
back,  sheepish,  tongue  dangling,  tail  hanging,  fur 
flopping,  she  met  them. 

"Shame  on  you!"  scolded  Phil. 

And  she  was  ashamed. 

Where  they  had  halted,  to  breathe  horses  and  dogs, 
they  might  look  out  from  a  brushy  knoll,  into  a  wide 
valley  of  the  green  and  the  red,  punctuated  by  the 
flashing  spot  now  waxed  larger. 


THE  WONDER  FOREST  107 

"What  do  you  suppose  that  bright  place  is?  See 
it?"  prompted  Phil. 

"Sure.  I've  been  noticing  it.  Sun  on  rocks,  I 
reckon.  May  be  mica !  Let's  go  over." 

With  Chet  to  speak  was  to  act,  and  on  he  started. 

"Why?     Is  mica  any  good?"  queried  Phil. 

"I  should  say !     Big  sheets  are." 

"Wonder  where  we've  got  to?  We  can't  climb 
here  as  well  as  we  could  from  camp." 

"Naw,"  agreed  Chet.  "This  would  be  a  tough 
proposition.  We'll  see  what  that  bright  spot  is,  and 
then  we'd  better  back-track  out." 

"Guess  that  medicine  elk's  led  us  into  a  mess,"  pro- 
pounded Phil.  "He  was  pretty  smart." 

The  big  elk  had  vanished  utterly.  As  they  rode 
along,  down  a  long  slope  broken  by  sudden  ledges, 
huge  cedars,  and  matted  brush,  the  only  sounds  were 
the  hoofs  of  the  two  horses,  the  creak  of  the  saddles, 
and  the  panting  of  the  tired,  hot  dogs;  the  only  living 
creatures  in  this  .vast  wild  basin  seemed  to  be  them- 
selves. 

The  flashing  spot  broadened  into  considerable  of 
an  area. 

"That's  heap  mica,"  grunted  Chet,  as  now  they 
trotted  for  it,  across  the  bottom  of  the  valley. 

The  spot  both  widened  and  deepened.  It  split  into 
fragments — into  short  pinnacles  and  dikes  and  scat- 
tered blocks,  all  shining  with  a  brightness  that  con- 
stantly scintillated  and  changed.  Even  the  horses 
pricked  their  ears,  with  interest. 

"Think  that's  mica?"  asked  Phil,  doubting. 


io8  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"No  savvy,"  drawled  Chet,  evidently  also  doubting. 
"This  chile  isn't  saying  what  it  is.  More  big  medi- 
cine, maybe." 

"Heap  big  medicine,"  concurred  Phil. 

They  were  near,  and  nearer;  and  sharper  became 
the  details  of  the  mystery  spot.  Chet,  eying  keenly — 
his  square  chin  set  while  he  blinked  and  squinted — 
let  out  an  exultant  whoop. 

"That's  no  mica,  boy!  She's  a  petrified  forest!" 
he  fairly  shouted.  "Isn't  she?"  And  pricking  Medi- 
cine Eye  with  the  spurs,  away  he  dashed,  excited  al- 
most out  of  his  skin.  After,  dashed  Phil  on  Pepper. 
Bonita  and  the  pups  labored  behind. 

The  course  to  the  edge  of  the  bright  tract  was 
comparatively  clear.  Crashing  through  the  few 
bushes  they  rode  pell  mell.  Reaching  the  edge  of  the 
tract,  Chet  reined  up  sharply,  and  swung  high  his  hat 
with  a  cheer.  Joining  him  in  an  instant,  Phil,  too, 
swung  hat  and  cheered. 

"She's  petrified,  and  she's  turned  all  colors  be- 
sides," proclaimed  Chet,  breathlessly,  as  he  tumbled 
to  earth. 

"Are  you  going  to  leave  Medicine  Eye  here?"  de- 
manded Phil.  "Better  not.  'I'm  going  to  tie  Pepper 
back  a  way.  Leave  'em  too  close  and  they're  liable 
to  be  turned  to  rock  themselves.  This  is  medicine 
country,  remember." 

"That's  right,"  responded  Chet,  soberly,  as  he  led 
Medicine  Eye  farther  into  the  green  live  brush. 

Awed,  they  might  enter-  the  magic  forest.  Here  it 
was,  shattered,  'tis  true,  with  only  a  few  stumps  up- 


THE  WONDER  FOREST  109 

standing,  the  others  lying  prone  or  criss-cross  or 
shivered  into  pieces  large  and  small;  yet  here  it  was, 
as  Chet  had  said  and  as  anybody  lucky  enough  to  find 
it  might  see,  a  forest  changed  to  rock.  And  what 
rock!  Not  the  dull,  opaque  kind  of  rock,  but  rock 
hard,  glassy,  shining,  and  semi-transparent,  with  all 
the  colors  of  the  rainbow ! 

"Gee!"  murmured  Chet,  subdued,  slowly  treading 
his  way,  step  by  step,  amidst  the  fascinating  debris. 
"Opal  and  agate  and  onyx  and  every  old  thing.  How 
are  we  going  to  pack  it  all  out?" 

"Aw,  you  can't  pack  it  out,  Chet,"  protested  Phil. 
"What  do  you  want  to  pack  it  out  for?" 

"Sell  it  to  jewelers,"  announced  the  excited  Chet. 

"No;  let  it  stay  so  folks  can  see  it.  There's  an- 
other petrified  forest  down  in  Arizona.  People  be- 
gan to  carry  it  off  and  sell  it,  but  the  Government 
stopped  'em." 

"Well,  it  isn't  as  good  a  one  as  this,  all  right," 
boasted  Chet.  "Fill  your  pockets,  anyhow,  for  Jim 
and  Dan." 

"We'll  bring  them  over." 

"We  shore  will  Here's  a  whole  tree  turned  into  a 
moss  agate!" 

"I've  got  one  that's  all  opal.  Jimmy,  how  she 
changes  color!" 

"Here's  a  big  carnelian — red  and  white!  Regular 
stick  of  candy!  Or  a  barber's  pole!  Only  prettier." 

They  wandered  on,  the  dogs  following  soberly,  as 
if  sharing  in  the  wonder.  Beneath  their  boot-heels 
they  crushed  bright  splinters  of  clear  red,  yellow, 


no  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

lemon,  pink,  shimmery  green,  and  blue.  On  every 
hand  were  masses  of  the  same  mingled.  Opal,  onyx, 
agate,  carnelian — Phil  thought  that  he  recognized 
them  all ;  and  there  were  other  glassy  forms,  probably 
jasper,  chalcedony,  obsidian.  In  the  bright  sunshine 
they  flashed  and  glittered,  constantly  changing,  like 
those  fairy  scenes  sometimes  put  upon  the  stage.  It 
was  a  wonder  forest,  indeed. 

"What  do  you  suppose  did  it?"  remarked  Phil. 

"Kin  savvy  that,  either,"  answered  Chet.  "Maybe 
it  isn't  so.  Maybe  it's  more  medicine  doin's — wagh! 
This  chile  thinks  he'll  fill  his  pockets  and  get  out,  he 
does,  'fore  he's  petrified,  too." 

"Yes;  and  whatever  we  pack  out  is  liable  to  turn 
into  sticks,"  claimed  Phil.  "Same  as  that  nugget 
turning  into  iron." 

"Huh !"  agreed  Chet.  And  presently  he  announced, 
busily  poking  about:  "Here's  a  sort  of  a  pocket 
filled  with  just  quartz.  I  reckon.  Funny-looking 
stuff,  worn  smooth  like  buckshot.  Red  when  you  look 
through  'em,  some  of  'em  are." 

"Take  a  sample,"  called  Phil.  "I've  got  a  sample 
of  green  quartz." 

"We'll  need  a  pack-hawss,  if  we  take  a  sample  of 
everything,"  grumbled  Chet. 

Phil's  pockets  speedily  were  bulging,  and  he  found 
himself  frequently  obliged  to  discard  a  specimen  for 
another  specimen  that  seemed  of  the  same  kind  but 
better.  Laden  with  these  bright  and  beautiful  prisms 
and  crystals  and  splinters  and  bits  he  was,  so 
that  he  felt  himself  to  be  a  traveling  jewelry 


THE  WONDER  FOREST  in 

shop;  or  Sindbad,  the  fortunate  sailor  of  the  "Ara- 
bian Nights" ! 

"We're  regular  Sindbads,"  he  called,  struck  with 
the  thought,  to  Chet. 

"No  savvy  any  Sindbads,  me,"  retorted  Chet  the 
cowboy.  And  suddenly  becoming  Chet  the  white  In- 
jun exclaimed:  "Huh!  Listen  to  that?  Old  Red 
Chief's  growling  at  us.  Wagh!  Better  get  out  o' 
hyar.  Bein'  in  this  place  in  a  thunder  storm  doesn't 
shine  with  this  chile." 

"Hi !  That  old  medicine  elk  just  led  us  into  a  trap, 
didn't  he?"  uttered  Phil,  surveying  quickly. 

As  if  in  an  instant  (but  of  course  because  just 
noticed)  the  whole  east  had  turned  black,  and  now 
the  swiftly  rising  mass  of  dense  vapor  was  about  to 
reach  the  sun.  Thunder  pealed  and  rumbled;  amidst 
the  mist  background  swirled  and  tossed  ominous 
wind-sign,  sometimes  bellying  like  the  sails  of  ships; 
a  damp  chill  swept  into  the  wild  basin,  so  that  the 
silence  seemed  frightened;  Chet's  hasty  comment 
sounded  well  put. 

"Come  on!"  he  said.  "Out  o'  hyar!  The  moun- 
tain's gone  bad  against  us!" 

"Lightning  won't  strike  glass;  non-conductor," 
panted  Phil,  as  weighted  down  with  their  specimens 
they  lumbered  for  the  horses. 

"No  savvy,  no  savvy!"  answered  Chet,  with  his 
favorite  phrase.  "Maybe  that  stuff's  not  all-samee 
glass.  This  chile's  not  glass,  anyhow,  and  he'd  rather 
take  his  chances  somewhere  else — wagh !" 

"Wagh!"  responded  Phil. 


ii2  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye  had  ears  pricked — but 
whether  at  the  approach  of  the  storm  or  of  their 
masters,  who  so  strangely  rattled  and  chinked,  no  one 
might  say.  Into  the  saddle  the  boys  clambered. 

"High  ground  or  low?"  queried  Phil,  briskly,  as 
wheeling  they  started. 

"Shall  we  find  cover  or  take  it  in  the  open?"  re- 
plied Chet,  with  counter  question.  "Get  up  too 
high,  liable  to  be  struck;  down  too  low,  liable  to  be 
drowned." 

"Looks  like  some  shelf  rock,  over  there,"  directed 
Phil.  "Might  find  cover  that  way.  Better  than 
tree.  Tree  dangerous." 

"All  right,"  grunted  Chet.  "Gwan,  Medicine  Eye! 
What's  the  matter  with  yuh!" 

Away  they  tore,  at  hard  gallop,  crossing  diago- 
nally the  bottom  of  the  basin,  to  seek  shelter  in  a 
rugged  ridge  area  that  promised  shelf  rock.  Behind 
them  they  left  the  wonder  forest,  its  sparkle  already 
dulled,  as  if  its  magic  were  fading.  The  sun  had  dis- 
appeared in  the  rolling  vapors;  the  wild,  silent  basin 
lay  somber. 

"Don't  believe  we'll  make  it,"  hazarded  Chet,  as 
recklessly  they  plunged  through  brush  and  through 
open,  Bonita  and  her  pups  trailing  in  their  rear. 

"Liable  to  get  wet,  if  we  don't,"  answered  Phil, 
grimly. 

The  basin  was  wide ;  it  stretched  interminable, 
while  the  rocks  lured  them,  before,  and  the  storm 
pursued  far  faster  than  they  rode. 

"Whoopee!"    cheered     Chet — and     Medicine    Eye 


THE  WONDER  FOREST  113 

leaped  to  the  cow-puncher  yelp.  "What  do  we  care? 
We've  been  wet  before,  plenty." 

"We  shore  have,"  shouted  Phil,  mindful  of  cow 
range  and  sheep  range  and  moccasin  trail,  out  of  Bar 
B  and  Circle  K  and  white  Injun  days.  "You're  los- 
ing your  specimens!"  he  added  quickly,  with  the 
corner  of  his  eye  noting  that  at  the  jolt  of  saddle 
Chet's  pockets  were  dripping  pebbles.  "And  so  am 
I.  Shucks!" 

"Aw,  jiminy!"  bemoaned  Chet,  clapping  hand  to 
his  treasure-stores.  "Reckon  I've  lost  over  half, 
already.  Feels  like  it." 

"Well,  can't  pick  'em  up  now,"  and  Phil  also  rue- 
fully investigated.  "We'll  have  to  come  back  again." 

The  storm  caught  them.  Glancing  over  their 
shoulders  as  they  raced  so  madly,  they  saw  it  sweep- 
ing along  in  their  very  wake;  its  myriad  long  fin- 
gers had  seized  the  wonder  forest,  and  apparently 
wiped  it  away.  The  wizard  of  Red  Chief  was  now 
reaching  out  for  them. 

"There  she  is,"  gasped  Chet,  as  with  quick  patter 
the  first  of  the  skirmish  drops  fell  about  them. 

Uttering  furious  threats,  roaring  and  booming  and 
rattling,  the  storm  enveloped  them. 

"Wow!"  laughed  Phil,  hunching  under  the  re- 
peated gusts. 

But  the  shelf  rocks  were  close  before. 

"I  see  a  good  one,"  announced  Chet.  "Over  to 
the  left." 

They  veered.  Just  as  the  countless  spears  of  the 
main  rain  arrived  on  the  run,  the  fleeing  little  party, 


1 1.4  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

streaming  with  wet,  gained  refuge.  A  wall  of  red- 
dish rock  had  been  hollowed  out,  straight  back,  at 
the  foot  forming  a  portico,  with  projecting  eaves  and 
a  flat  ceiling.  The  space  was  large  enough  for  any- 
body to  sit  in  comfortably.  Dismounting  without 
ceremony,  flinging  lines  to  ground,  their  guns  in  their 
hands  the  boys  dived  for  the  shelter. 

Bonita  and  her  soaked  pups  crowded  in,  and  of 
course  shook  themselves.  But  Pepper  and  Medicine 
Eye  must  stand  outside  and  take  what  came. 

They  did  not  like  it.  With  head  and  tail  down 
they  stood,  cringing.  The  rain  was  so  thick  that  they 
could  scarcely  be  seen,  save  as  vague,  unhappy  shapes. 
The  sound  of  the  drops  was  a  continuous  drone.  The 
thunder  bellowed,  the  lightning  flared,  and  there  were 
sharp,  deafening  reports  like  the  bursting  of  shells. 

"Regular  cloud-burst,"  asserted  Chet. 

"This  shore  is  a  medicine  mountain,  all  right,"  de- 
clared Phil.  "Wonder  what  next?  We  got  in  here 
just  in  time." 

The  world  outside  appeared  to  be  water.  The 
horses  shook  their  heads  impatiently,  and  the  inces- 
sant thunder  and  lightning  were  making  them  restive. 
Suddenly  both  the  boys  exclaimed :  "Hail !" 

And  hail  it  was.  The  large  spears  of  rain  changed 
to  frozen  bullets;  yes,  bullets — the  size  of  bullets  and 
as  hard  as  bullets,  volleyed  from  ten  thousand  re- 
peaters. These  bullets  landed  wickedly :  spatting  into 
the  pools  of  water,  smacking  against  the  rocks,  and 
thudding  upon  the  luckless  horses,  bounding  from 
their  saddles  and  from  their  wet  hides.  This  was 


THE  WONDER  FOREST  115 

almost  more  than  horse  should  stand.  Pepper  and 
Medicine  Eye  flinched  and  jerked,  tossed  their  heads, 
snorted,  moved  forward  and  back. 

"Steady,  there!  Whoa,  Medicine  Eye!  Whoa, 
Pepper !"  besought  the  boys,  helpless  to  remedy  mat- 
ters. 

Chet  scurried  out,  to  grasp  the  lines — but  back  he 
crawled,  in  a  jiffy. 

"Stings  right  through  your  gloves!"  he  panted. 
"Say,  but  it  must  hurt  their  ears !" 

"Think  they'll "  and  Phil  was  intending  to 

finish  with  the  words  "stick  it  out,"  when  he  was 
interrupted  by  a  new  crisis.  Abruptly  pealed  a  tre- 
mendous burst  of  thunder,  the  hail  was  succeeded  by 
another  furious  onslaught  of  the  thick  rain,  and 
from  across  the  basin  rolled  a  strange,  sullen,  rever- 
berating growl,  well  calculated  to  spread  a  shiver. 

Bonita  and  her  whimpering  pups  began  to  howl; 
and  the  horses,  with  one  alarmed  snort,  plunging 
wildly,  bolted.  They  had  had  enough.  Heads  and 
tails  high,  lines  swaying,  away  they  went  at  a  gallop. 

"Whoa!  Pepper!  Medicine  Eye!  Hi!  Whoa!" 
yelled  the  boys,  rushing  bravely  out,  careless  of  the 
downpour.  But  the  frantic  animals  paid  no  heed  to 
the  commands. 

"Aw,  shucks!"  complained  Chet. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   MOUNTAIN    PLAYS   A   TRICK 

"WHAT  do  suppose  that  funny  noise  was?  Heard 
it,  didn't  you?"  asked  Phil,  as  they  stood  for  a 
minute,  helplessly  staring. 

"When?" 

"Just  before  the  horses  ran.  Sort  of  a  rumble  and 
growl;  shook  the  ground.  Guess  that  was  what 
scared  them." 

"Yes,  I  heard  it.  Don't  know.  More  medicine,  I 
reckon.  May  have  been  the  big  elk  again.  He  shore 
led  us  into  a  nice  fix." 

"He  shore  did,"  concurred  Phil.  "Charley  warned 
us  we'd  better  not  fool  with  this  mountain,  remem- 
ber." 

"Aw,  that's  just  Injun  talk,"  retorted  Chet,  stub- 
bornly. "Those  Utes  don't  want  anybody  hunting  on 
Red  Chief,  or  anywhere  else  in  Lost  Park.  But 
come  on;  we've  got  to  catch  those  hawsses." 

"It's  quitting  raining.  Good!"  exclaimed  Phil,  as 
they  took  one  last  preliminary  survey. 

That  was  true.  The  pour  had  slackened  to  a 
drizzle,  and  by  token  of  a  rapidly  brightening  hori- 
zon the  drizzle  also  was  limited.  Somewhat  cheered, 
with  a  whistle  to  the  reluctant  Bonita  and  family  they 
trudged  away  upon  the  trail  of  the  fugitive  horses. 

116 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK     117 

Where  imprinted  in  the  softened  soil  the  trail  at 
first  was  not  difficult  to  follow.  But  in  gravel  and 
on  sod  and  rock  it  suffered  by  the  rain;  and  soon  the 
tracks  in  the  soil  itself  had  been  badly  washed. 

Sloshing  along,  wet  by  the  brush  and  by  the  lessen- 
ing drizzle,  with  Bonita  and  her  four  pups  dejectedly 
stringing  out  behind,  the  two  boys,  now  reading 
"sign/'  now  scanning  the  country  before  and  on 
either  hand,  stolidly  proceeded. 

"Look !"  cried  Phil,  pointing. 

The  edge  of  the  late  storm  had  passed  on  over 
them,  so  that  the  sun  was  reflected  out,  upon  the  high 
regions.  Now  was  revealed  old  Red  Chief  arrayed 
from  shoulders  to  waist  in  dazzling  white.  Clouds 
clung  about  his  head,  hiding  it;  but  from  cloud  line 
down  to  a  level  just  above  that  of  the  boys  he  was 
covered  all  with  snow,  shining  in  the  sunlight. 

As  they  gazed  across  the  basin,  at  his  mighty  slope 
continuing  on  to  his  cloud-draped  crest,  the  spectacle 
was  superb. 

"I'd  like  to  have  a  picture  of  that,"  breathed  Phil. 

"I'd  like  to  have  a  picture  of  those  hawsses,"  com- 
plained Chet.  "They've  stampeded  clear  out  of  the 
country.  Don't  like  this  walking,  me." 

"Same  here,"  responded  Phil. 

And  sooth  to  say,  in  his  heavy  clothes,  weighted 
with  the  wonder- forest  specimens,  his  cartridges  and 
carbine,  he  spoke  as  he  felt. 

The  trail  left  by  the  recreant  Pepper  and  Medicine 
Eye  was  growing  worse  and  worse.  They  had  gone 
tearing  blindly  along  the  low  ridge  which  contained 


n8  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

the  shelf-rock  formation;  gradually  they  had  climbed 
it,  and  so  the  course  brought  the  pursuit  out  on  top. 
As  panting  and  perspiring  Chet  and  Phil  (Bonita  and 
family  still  plodding  patiently  behind)  toiled  up,  the 
sun  burst  forth  gloriously. 

He  was  warm  and  cheery,  and  made  a  great  differ- 
ence, for  immediately  the  world  began  to  dry. 

"There's  a  smoke!"  exclaimed  Phil,  at  once. 

But  Chet  uttered  as  quickly;  "There  are  the  haws- 
ses!" 

The  course  of  the  low  ridge  had  been  in  a  curve,  so 
that,  by  puzzling  method,  it  had  brought  the  shining 
slope  of  main  Red  Chief  directly  before  them.  To- 
ward him  fell  away  the  end  of  the  ridge.  The  won- 
der forest  lay  to  the  left,  as  it  seemed  to  Phil,  while 
on  the  right  or  this  other  side  of  the  ridge,  opened  a 
new  section  of  the  basin. 

In  this,  beyond  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  were  the 
smoke  and  the  horses.  The  ground  was  almost  level, 
forming  another  shallow  valley  studded  with  a  few 
rocks  and  cedars.  The  smoke  evidently  rose  from  a 
camp  located  among  some  cedars.  Between  the  foot 
of  the  ridge  and  the  smoke  meandered  Pepper  and 
Medicine  Eye.  Yes,  it  was  they.  At  mingled  trot 
and  walk  they  proceeded,  holding  their  heads  high 
and  turned  one  side  so  that  the  dragging  bridle  reins 
would  not  be  under  their  hoofs.  Canny  cow-horses 
were  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye. 

The  camp-fire  attracted  them.  They  acted  as  if  re- 
connoitering  it.  It  attracted  them — and  yet  they  were 
suspicious,  too. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK     119 

"Aw,  shucks!"  uttered  Chet,  now  excited.  "If 
those  campers  are  any  good  at  all,  we  can  catch  those 
hawsses.  Come  on." 

"Hope  they  know  enough  to  head  'em  off,"  added 
Phil,  as  down  from  the  ridge  plunged  Chet  and  he. 

About  the  camp-fire  were  moving  three  figures.  It 
was  to  be  seen  that  they  were  not  the  three  Indians, 
or  the  Black  Man  and  his  two  friends;  they  were 
still  another  trio;  but  whoever  they  were,  upon 
them  rested  the  burden  of  heading  off  the  runaway 
horses. 

Loudly  whoo-eed  Chet,  loudly  whoo-eed  Phil,  wav- 
ing. The  campers  heard,  and  looked,  and  saw  Pep- 
per and  Medicine  Eye  making  skittish  way,  circum- 
venting the  fire.  Out  ran  the  three  campers,  holding 
wide  their  arms  and  yelling  "Whoa!"  as  if  in  a  city 
street,  to  halt  the  horses. 

"Hey!  Quit  it!  Let  'em  go!"  warned  the  boys, 
sharply;  and — 

"Aw,  jiminy!  The  big  fools!"  deplored  Chet, 
slackening  his  pace. 

For  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye,  thus  aroused  again 
to  action,  easily  enough  had  galloped  past  campers 
and  camp,  and  with  stirrups  dancing,  bridle  reins  fly- 
ing, tail  and  mane  streaming,  were  thudding  away  at 
full  speed,  crossing  the  valley  and  entering  some  tim- 
ber at  the  other  edge. 

"Well,  they're  bound  out  of  the  country  this  time, 
sure,"  declared  Phil,  hopelessly.  "That  was  a  re- 
gular tenderfoot  trick!  Who  are  those  people,  any- 
way?" 


120  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"We'll  go  on  in  and  see,"  growled  Chet,  striding 
off.  "That  was  no  way  to  catch  a  hawss." 

On  they  marched  for  the  camp.  The  three 
campers,  after  gazing  to  watch  the  horses  careering 
off,  were  trudging  in  to  the  fire.  Phil  and  Chet  drew 
near. 

"What's  the  matter  with  yuh?"  scolded  Chet. 
"Don't  you  know  how  to  catch  a  hawss?  That  was 
no  way  to  catch  a  hawss." 

"What  did  you  want  us  to  do*?  We  did  the  best 
we  could,"  retorted  one  of  the  three. 

They  were  young  fellows,  dressed  in  costumes  alike 
of  straight-brimmed  sombreros,  blue  flannel  shirts, 
corduroy  trousers,  and  laced  mountain-boots.  Grazing 
back  among  the  cedars  were  a  couple  of  burros.  A 
tarpaulin  covered  bedding  from  the  wet.  Camp  uten- 
sils were  lying  about,  or  hanging  in  the  cedars. 

"You  can't  catch  a  hawss  by  yelling  at  him,  and 
running  for  him  afoot,"  instructed  Chet.  "That's  no 
way.  Those  hawsses  are  gone  for  keeps,  now.  They 
never  will  stop." 

"Well,  we  did  the  best  we  could,"  repeated  the 
young  fellow.  "We  were  trying  to  help  you.  They 
weren't  our  horses."  He  was  the  elder  of  the  trio, — 
a  smooth-faced,  dark-eyed,  good-looking  youth,  with 
wide,  square  shoulders. 

"You  see,  the  only  way  is  to  work  easy  with 
horses,  in  a  case  like  that,"  put  in  Phil,  more  politely, 
to  make  amends  for  Chet's  brusqueness.  The  three 
young  fellows  appeared  to  be  clean,  gentlemanly 
chaps.  "Just  speak  to  them,  gently,  and  approach 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK    121 

them  by  degrees,  and  don't  do  anything  sudden,  and 
chances  are  you'll  get  close  enough  to  put  a  rope  on 
them." 

"We're  sorry/'  said  the  spokesman,  candidly. 
"We'll  help  you  chase  them  up,  if  you  want  us  to." 

"Naw,"  grunted  Chet,  smoothing  his  ruffled  bris- 
tles. "They're  on  the  move  again.  Might  as  well 
wait  till  they've  settled  down  to  grazing,  or  are  hung 
up  in  the  brush  somewhere." 

"How'd  they  g«t  away?"  asked  another  of  the 
three.  He  was  freckled  and  red-headed  and  as 
stocky  as  Chet. 

"Storm  stampeded  them.  Too  much  hail  and 
racket." 

"Hard  luck.     What  are  you  doing — hunting?" 

"Yes;  hunting  and  prospecting,"  professed  Chet, 
carelessly. 

"Great  pups,  aren't  they!"  praised  the  third  of  the 
trio.  He  was  a  blue-eyed,  curly-brown-haired,  merry- 
faced  individual,  not  much  older  than  Chet  or  Phil. 
The  pups  had  ventured  into  his  lap,  as  now  he  lolled 
by  the  fire,  and  Bonita  was  sniffing  him  in  friendly 
fashion — all  of  which  spoke  much  in  his  favor. 

"Half  wolf,"  informed  Phil.  "They  were  born  in 
the  Park  here." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  ejaculated  the  three  campers, 
interested.  "Timber  wolf?" 

"No.     Black." 

"Must  be  that  same  pack  we  heard  howling  last 
night,"  asserted  the  red-headed  youth. 

"Yes,"  agreed  the  older  youth — he  with  the  dark 


122  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

eyes,  who  seemed  to  be  leader.  "Did  you  hear  them? 
And  did  you  hear  the  elk,  too?"  he  queried,  of  Chet 
and  Phil. 

"We  shore  did,"  replied  Chet.  "And  we've  seen 
'em.  Saw  the  elk  this  morning." 

"Chet's  got  his  last  year's  horns,"  added  Phil. 
"Picked  them  up  where  they'd  been  cast." 

"Big  ones?" 

"Stand  as  high  as  I  do." 

"Cracky!     He  must  be  a  corking  big  elk,  then." 

"He  is,"  affirmed  Chet.     "Biggest  there  is." 

"Think  you'll  get  him?      Did  you  shoot  at  him?" 

"No.  We  aren't  trying  to  get  him.  He's  a  medi- 
cine elk." 

"What's  that?" 

"Oh,  he's  magic.  That's  what  the  Indians  say. 
He's  not  a  real  elk;  he's  just  an  elk  shape,  roaming 
around  over  this  mountain.  It  would  be  bad  luck  to 
shoot  him.  He's  led  us  into  a  hole  already." 

The  trio  hooted.     They  thought  this  a  great  joke. 

"Go  tell  that  to  the  marines,"  they  jeered.  "We 
may  be  green  at  catching  runaway  horses  when  they 
have  a  whole  county  to  dodge  in,  but  we're  past  the 
age  of  fairy  stories." 

"Well,  that's  so;  isn't  it?"  appealed  Chet  to  Phil. 

Phil  nodded. 

"It  shore  is,"  he  supported  broadly.  "This  is  all 
medicine  country."  And  then  he  thought  best  to  in- 
ject hard  sense  by  explaining,  off-hand :  "He's  a  king 
in  here,  anyhow,  and  nobody  ought  to  kill  him.  He 
ought  to  be  left  alive.  We  won't  shoot  him." 

The  spokesman  of  the  trio  nodded. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK     123 

"That's  right/'  he  said.  "Let  him  live.  It  always 
seems  queer  to  me  that  whenever  anybody  discovers 
a  wild  animal  or  something  else  especially  big  or  un- 
usual or  the  last  of  its  kind,  folks  itch  to  destroy  it 
or  carry  it  off." 

"Speaking  of  loose  horses  and  loose  elk,"  broke  in 
the  curly-headed  stripling,  "haven't  seen  any  loose 
men  wandering  about,  have  you?" 

"No,"  answered  Chet.     "Lost  some?" 

"Rather  suspect  so.     Can't  tell." 

"Oh,  they'll  come  in,"  asserted  the  red-head. 
"  Tisn't  time  yet." 

"We're  a  school-of-mines  bunch,"  vouchsafed  the 
spokesman  youth,  to  Chet  and  Phil.  "Out  on  a  little 
trip  doing  field  work.  Our  professor's  got  the  rest 
of  the  gang,  somewhere.  When  that  storm  came  up 
we  hiked  in  to  camp.  Sit  down  and  dry  off.  We'll 
have  chuck  pretty  soon." 

The  word  "chuck"  sounded  good;  from  a  coffee- 
pot on  the  fire  rose  an  inviting  aroma. 

"Well,"  murmured  Chet,  "much  obliged!" 

"Sure,"  affirmed  Phil. 

And  they  yielded.  With  the  three  school-of-mines 
fellows  they  formed  a  friendly  group  about  the  fire. 
Bonita  and  her  pups,  all  tired,  sought  snug  spots  in 
the  sunshine  and  there  curled  to  sleep. 

"Ouch!"  grumbled  Phil,  by  a  sharp  point  digging 
into  him  suddenly  reminded  that  his  pockets  still  con- 
tained samples  of  the  wonder  forest.  He  twisted 
himself  lazily  and  rummaging  for  the  offending  piece 
fished  it  out. 

rAs  he  examined  it,  in  casual  mariner  befitting  an 


124  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

experienced  prospector,  it  caught  the  eye  of  the  curly- 
headed  youth.  He  interrupted  the  conversation  to 
ask  politely,  "Specimen?" 

"Yes.     Something  I  picked  up." 

"Looks  like  yellow  quartz." 

"Kind  of  pretty  stuff,"  said  Phil,  carelessly.  He 
passed  it  over,  for  the  curly-headed  youth  seemed  in- 
terested. 

"No,  that's  not  quartz,"  pronounced  the  curly-head, 
scrutinizing  it.  "It  hasn't  the  cleavage."  He 
scratched  at  it,  and  bit  it.  "  'Tisn't  hard  enough." 

"Topaz,"  hazarded  the  red-headed  youth,  sliding 
to  look. 

"What  is  it,  Dick?"  queried  the  curly-head,  hand- 
ing the  piece  to  the  older  youth.  "We  unload  every- 
thing on  Dick,"  he  explained.  "He's  a  senior;  Fat 
and  I  are  only  sophs." 

"Topaz  your  grandmother!"  scoffed  Dick,  with 
scant  ceremony.  "You  make  your  uncle  laugh.  I'd 
like  to  send  you  out  collecting  topaz!  It  might  be 
false  topaz,  for  that's  nothing  but  a  yellow  quartz. 
Then  you'd  both  be  right — which  you  aren't.  No; 
for  a  scientific  guess — and  the  Prof  says  that  there's 
no  such  thing  as  a  scientific  guess — I  name  it  amber. 
Feels  like  amber — has  a  sort  of  celluloid  feel.  Wait 
till  I  rub  it,"  And— "Sure  it's  amber !"  he  exclaimed. 
"See  the  electricity  in  it?" 

"You  can't  see  electricity,  you  goat,"  interrupted 
the  curly-head. 

"Well,  see  how  it  picks  things  up,  after  I  rub  it?" 
pursued  Dick,  unabashed,  and  rubbing  the  fragment 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK    125 

on  his  sleeve.  "It  would  blaze  up,  too,  if  I  put  it  in 
the  fire." 

"Chuck  her  in,  chuck  her  in,"  urged  Fat,  the  red- 
head, sarcastically.  "It  isn't  your  property,  and  may 
be  worth  money;  but  chuck  her  in,  for  science'  sake." 

"It's  got  a  conchoidal  fracture ;  that  is,  it  breaks  or 
chips  in  a  curve  that  has  a  little  tip  or  peak  in  the 
middle,  shape  of  a  conch  shell.  Smells  nice,  rather. 
It's  amber,  all  right.  A  peach  of  a  specimen,  too. 
Where'd  you  find  it?" 

Chet  had  been  staring,  with  eyes  popped,  at  the  de- 
cisive analysis  bestowed  upon  the  bit  of  clear  yellow 
rock;  and  "conchoidal  fracture"  made  even  Phil,  of 
city  school  education,  mentally  gasp.  Beyond  doubt 
accurate  prospecting  for  minerals  involved  consider- 
able study. 

"A  mile  or  so  over  from  the  other  side  of  this  little 
ridge,"  he  answered.  "Is  it  worth  anything?" 

"What?  Amber?  Well,  I  should  say  so.  But  I 
never  heard  before  of  any  being  found  in  this  coun- 
try. Not  throughout  the  mountains,  I  mean." 

"Aw,  here's  everything  over  there;  isn't  there, 
Phil?"  1  urted  Chet.  "A  whole  petrified  forest,  all 
colors.  We  got  our  pockets  full."  And  he  began  to 
disgorge,  for  inspection. 

"Had  'em  full,  when  we  started;  but  we  lost  a  lot, 
riding  to  beat  the  storm,"  added  Phil,  also  disgorging. 

The  three  school-of -mines  fellows  gathered  close, 
to  examine  and  comment. 

"Jiminy  Christmas!  Look  at  the  opal  chips!" 
ejaculated  the  curly-head. 


126  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Yes;  but  they're  no  good,"  retorted  Fat 
"They're  just  fragments.  Here's  some  of  your  yel- 
low quartz,  though — false  topaz." 

"Big  chunk  of  moss  agate,"  muttered  Dick.  "Some 
of  that  yellow  quartz  is  chalcedony,  my  child.  More 
chalcedony;  every  color.  Say,  this  is  great  stuff! 
Agate — carnelian;  black  and  white  onyx.  Wait  a 
minute,  now — !" 

"What's  this?     Smoky  topaz?"  demanded  Fat. 

"That?  No.  You've  got  topaz  on  the  brain.  That's 
obsidian — volcanic  glass.  See  the  conchoidal  fracture, 
again?  Wait  a  minute,  I  say,"  and  thus  speaking  im- 
patiently Dick  was  intent  upon  a  beautiful  dull-green 
fragment  which  Phil  had  produced  from  his  hoard. 
"That's  a  turquoise  matrix,"  pronounced  Dick.  "A 
turquoise  was  formed  in  this,  but  it's  imperfect." 

"Shucks !"  uttered  Phil,  disappointed.  "That's  the 
only  piece  I  have.  Remember  when  I  picked  it  up, 
Chet?  I  called  it  quartz." 

"That  was  when  I  was  picking  up  those  buckshot 
quartzes,"  announced  Chet.  "Regular  nest  of  'em. 
Here's  one.  Of  course  I  went  and  put  'em  in  a  pocket 
with  a  hole  in  it,  so  they  could  leak  out.  But  I  don't 
suppose  it  matters." 

"That  looks  like  garnet,"  said  Dick,  squinting 
through  it,  against  the  sun.  "Either  garnet  or  ruby. 
If  it's  ruby,  it's  worth  considerable — though  it  may 
not  be  a  high  grade."  Chet,  his  tanned  round  face 
growing  purple  with  excitement,  watched  him  breath- 
lessly. "Only  way  to  find  out  is  to  heat  it.  If  I  had 
proper  scales  I  could  weigh  it  in  air  and  in  water  and 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK     127 

get  its  specific  gravity.  That's  the  weight  of  anything, 
as  compared  with  the  same  bulk  of  water.  Divide  the 
weight  in  air  by  the  difference  when  weighed  in  water 
— see?  All  minerals  have  an  established  specific 
gravity.  But  I  can  heat  this  specimen,  if  you  say  so. 
If  it's  ruby,  it  won't  be  hurt  and  will  keep  its  color; 
if  it's  only  garnet,  the  heat  will  take  the  color  out  of 
it.  Savvy  ?" 

Assuredly  this  businesslike  Dick  knew  considerable 
about  the  makeup  of  minerals.  He  went  at  things 
from  a  scientific  basis. 

"Go  ahead  and  heat  her  up,"  bade  Chet,  bravely. 
"If  it's  a  garnet,  I  don't  want  it.  Diamonds  and 
rubies  are  all  I  wear." 

"Boil  her  in  the  coffee-pot,"  suggested  Fat.  "There 
was  an  old  Roman  who  dissolved  a  $40,000  pearl  in 
vinegar  and  drank  it." 

The  smoothish,  roundish  pebble  was  the  size  of  a 
small  French  pea,  and  looked  not  unlike  a  worn  bit 
of  dull  rusty-red  quartz.  But  when  held  to  the  light, 
it  was  shot  through  with  a  rich  crimson  glow.  Hav- 
ing been  given  Chet's  lordly  permission,  Dick  promptly 
placed  the  pebble  in  a  tin  spoon,  and  the  spoon  upon 
some  coals. 

"Suppose  we'll  crack  it  if  we  don't  manage  to  bring 
it  up  gradually,"  he  muttered.  "But  here  goes." 

"What's  one  ruby  to  me?"  bragged  Chet.  "There's 
a  wagon-load  of  'em  over  there,  I  reckon." 

At  this  announcement  the  party  gasped. 

The  pebble  had  been  well  heated ;  at  least,  the  spoon 
was  apparently  at  red-hot  temperature,  as  Dick 


128  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

speedily  found  out  when  he  would  draw  it  out.  He 
handled  it  gingerly,  by  fits  and  starts;  and  plucking 
the  pebble  from  the  bowl,  with  a  pair  of  small 
tweezers,  he  held  it  to  the  light. 

Every  head  thrust  forward  to  peer  also.  The  mo- 
ment was  tense  with  excitement. 

"She's  just  the  same.  Here — see?"  and  Dick  held 
the  pebble  for  Chet.  "Same  rich  color." 

"Think  it's  a  ruby?"  asked  Chet,  unsteadily. 

"Why,  as  far  as  I  can  tell.  Of  course,  I'm  not  an 
expert.  If  the  Prof  was  here  he'd  know.  It  may 
be  what  they  call  an  Arizona  ruby,  which  is  only  a 
variety  of  garnet." 

"What's  it  worth,  if  it's  a  real  ruby?"  pursued 
Chet,  huskily. 

"Can't  say.  But  a  ruby  without  a  flaw  is  valued 
more  than  a  diamond  of  the  same  size.  This  one 
looks  as  if  it  might  have  a  crack  in  it."  Dick  squinted 
earnestly  again,  and  so  did  all — Chet  fairly  tying  his 
round  face  into  a  cross-stitch  pattern.  "Got  any 
more?" 

"Couple,  is  all,"  said  Chet,  mournfully,  searching 
well  through  his  stock  of  specimens.  "But  we  can  go 
over  and  get  some.  Come  on." 

"Where?" 

"Over  to  our  petrified  forest,  where  all  this  stuff  is. 
Tisn't  far." 

"By  cracky,  I'd  like  to  see  that  place,"  cried  Dick, 
springing  up. 

"Who  wants  coffee  before  we  go?"  invited 
Fat. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK     129 

'To  the  dump  heap  with  the  coffee !"  retorted  Dick. 
"Set  it  to  one  side/' 

"Stay  and  drink  it  yourself,  Fat/'  advised  the  cur- 
ly-head. 

Fat  did  delay  long  enough  hastily  to  swallow  a 
half-cup  of  the  steaming  fluid;  the  gulps  turned  him 
as  red  as  a  boiled  lobster,  so  hot  were  they.  Then  he 
came  running  after. 

As  for  the  rest,  coffee  meant  a  waste  of  precious 
time,  when  that  wonder  forest  was  waiting  before. 

"How  big  is  a  mineral  claim?  How  much  can  one 
man  stake  off?"  demanded  Chet,  as  all  hurried  along, 
rounding  the  low  ridge,  to  cross  the  next  shallow  val- 
ley for  the  wonder  forest. 

"Depends  on  what  kind  of  claim  it  is,"  answered 
Dick.  "Lode  or  placer." 

"What  would  you  call  that  petrified  forest?"  que- 
ried Phil. 

"Why — why,  blamed  if  I  know.  If  it's  placer, 
each  man  is  allowed  twenty  acres.  If  it's  a  vein  or 
lode,  he's  allowed  fifteen  hundred  feet  long  and  six 
hundred  feet  wide." 

"Gee !  Guess  we  claim  a  placer  and  make  it  twenty 
acres  apiece,"  chuckled  Chet. 

"The  Professor'd  know,"  quoth  the  curly-head 
(whose  name,  as  it  turned  out,  was  "Jinks").  "He's 
a  wise  old  boy." 

"Reckon  I'll  have  a  saddle  and  bridle  studded  with 
rubies,"  asserted  Chet.  "Won't  you,  Phil?" 

"Shore;  or  trade  some  off  for  diamonds." 

"Where  is  your  forest?"  asked  Dick. 


130  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Right  across.  Ought  to  see  it  shining,  if  the  sun 
was  right.  That's  what  led  us  to  it — a  shining  spot. 
Thought  it  was  mica." 

However,  no  shine  now  betrayed  the  existence  of 
the  wonder  forest.  The  foot  of  the  slope  where  it 
should  be,  lay  waiting  reddish  and  dull. 

With  eyes  keen-set  and  pulses  high,  breath  short, 
the  little  party  pressed  on,  Chet  and  Phil  guiding. 
They  were  near  enough  now  so  that  it  seemed  to 
Phil  they  should  be  catching  glint  or  sparkle.  He 
heard  Chet  grunting  bewilderment.  And  then  he 
himself  suddenly  cried: 

"Something's  happened,  boys!  The  whole  place  is 
changed!  It  is!  I  don't  believe  the  forest's  there 
any  more." 

"Sure  you're  heading  right?"  panted  Fat. 

"Yes,  of  course.  You  can't  miss  a  place  like  that. 
But  it  isn't  there,  I  tell  you,"  replied  Phil,  irritated. 

"It  shore  isn't,"  murmured  Chet,  staHng  hard  and 
slackening  pace.  "The  whole  side  of  the  mountain's 
fallen  on  it." 

"Landslide,  then;  landslide!"  exclaimed  Dick. 
"Didn't  you  hear  it?  We  did.  Just  before  the 
storm  quit.  Didn't  know  what  it  was." 

"Aw,  shucks !  That  was  what  scared  our  hawsses," 
grumbled  Chet,  aghast.  "And  it's  covered  our  rubies 
and  agates  and  everything.  Talk  about  medicine! 
This  mountain's  the  plumb  limit." 

"Yes,  sir,"  agreed  Phil,  equally  perturbed;  "that 
big  elk  tolled  us  in  here,  just  far  enough  to  show  us 
things,  then  he  lit  out  and  the  sky  fell  on  us  and  the 


THE  MOUNTAIN  PLAYS  A  TRICK     131 

mountain  fell  on  our  claims  and  we've  lost  our  horses 
and  most  of  our  specimens;  and  like  as  not  Chet's 
rubies'll  turn  out  to  be  glass." 

"Where  was  your  forest?"  demanded  Dick. 

"Right  here;  right  here,  in  a  hollow  or  sort  of  a 
dip  in  this  bench,"  stated  Chet,  dolefully.  "Can't  see 
a  sign  of  it  now,  though.  Wouldn't  that  kill  yuh! 
Can't  see  even  the  dip." 

He  spoke  truly.  Where  the  wonder  forest  had 
shimmered,  lining  the  hollow  as  a  cup  is  lined  with 
pearl,  now  was  only  a  roughly  level  incline  forming  a 
continuous  slope  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  By 
token  of  great  rocks  askew  and  fresh  earth  upturned 
and  pushed  along,  a  slide  had  this  been.  How  far  on 
right  and  left  it  extended  no  one  could  tell;  but  it 
had  covered  completely  every  trace  of  the  marvelous 
petrified  forest. 


CHAPTER    XI 

ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL 

"WELL,"  drawled  Chet,  "I've  got  a  ruby-studded 
saddle  and  bridle  in  there  somewhere."  This  was 
just  like  the  practical,  matter-of-fact  Chet. 

"Pshaw !"  complained  Phil.  "Don't  suppose  there's 
any  use  in  digging.  Wish  we'd  known  a  little  more 
about  prospecting;  then  we  might  have  picked  the 
valuable  stuff,  while  we  were  in  there." 

"Yes,  if  we'd  known  about  those  con — con — what- 
you-call-it  curves,  and  things,"  grumbled  Chet.  "We 
haven't  sense  enough  to  go  prospecting." 

"Hard  luck,  old  man,"  proffered  Jinks  the  curly- 
head.  "But  you  might  have  been  in  there  yet,  you 
know,  with  a  few  tons  of  earth  on  top  of  you  and  a 
conchoidal  fracture  of  your  spinal  column!" 

"That's  right,"  admitted  Chet,  wagging  his  head 
solemnly. 

"The  professor'll  want  to  hear  about  this,"  asserted 
Dick. 

"Those  look  like  some  of  the  gang  now,"  directed 
Jinks,  pointing. 

Down  the  side  of  the  mountain,  where  the  little 
valley  headed  into  it,  were  hastening  four  figures. 

"They're  making  for  camp,"  said  Dick.  "Yell  at 
'em.  We'll  go  back  together.  Better  come  along,"  he 
added  to  Chet  and  Phil,  who  were  poking  about,  with 

132 


ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL  133 

not  the  slightest  result  from  their  efforts  to  uncover 
the  buried  forest.  "You  can't  do  anything  that  way. 
Come  over  to  camp  and  have  chuck.  You'll  locate  this 
as  a  placer  claim,  I  guess,  and  use  hydraulic  method, 
if  you  can  get  the  water." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Chet,  as  they  all  hurried 
away. 

"Turn  a  big  hose  on  it  and  wash  it  out  into  screens 
and  sluice  boxes.  You  could  use  graduated  screens, 
see?  Begin  with  coarse  and  run  down  to  very  fine, 
and  sort  the  stuff  caught  by  each.  There  may  be  a 
way  of  catching  the  rubies  by  sluice-box  riffles.  I'll 
look  this  up.  The  Professor'll  know.  Down  in  the 
South  Africa  diamond  fields  they  catch  the  diamonds 
with  grease.  The  diamonds  stick  to  grease  and  the 
ordinary  stones  slide  on  over." 

"Where'd  we  get  the  water  for  the  hose,  though?" 
queried  Phil. 

"Lead  it  in  by  a  flume,  with  a  big  drop  so  as  to  give 
pressure  at  the  nozzle." 

"Sure.  We  could  bring  it  down  from  the  top  of  the 
mountain,"  said  Chet.  "That  would  make  drop 
enough." 

. .  "Could  make  a  reservoir  of  the  snow  water,"  pro- 
posed Phil.  "Unless  there's  a  lake." 

"Dam  a  creek,"  advised  Dick.  "You  can  find 
water,  I  guess,  but  you  might  have  to  build  several 
miles  of  flume." 

In  Phil's  eyes  the  operations  already  were  in  full 
career.  The  nozzle-stream  was  tearing  away  the  land- 
slide, and  washing  it  through  great  screens ;  from  these 


134  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

screens  were  being  shoveled,  by  many  laborers,  wagon 
loads  of  agate  and  carnelian  and  onyx  and  amber,  in 
large  chunks;  while  lower,  toward  the  end  of  the  im- 
mense chute,  rubies  and  emeralds  and  turquoise  were 
being  scooped  out  and  sacked.  And  he  and  Chet  and 
their  families  and  friends  were  so  prosperous  that 
really  they  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  their  money. 

He  did  not  consider  the  surveying  of  the  claim,  and 
the  procuring  of  material,  and  the  building  of  the 
flume  and  sluice,  and  the  hiring  of  labor,  and  the 
erection  of  buildings,  and  the  transportation  in  and 
out,  and  the  thousand  matters  large  and  small  that 
enter  into  mining  of  any  description. 

By  his  flushed  face  and  excited  puffing  Chet  also 
was  having  visions. 

As  they  hastened,  Dick  and  Fat  and  Jinks  were 
shouting  lustily,  to  attract  the  attention  of  those  four 
other  figures.  Phil  and  Chet  joined  in.  The  united 
chorus  pealed  through  the  thin  air.  Soon  the  four 
figures  heard,  saw,  and  waved  response;  and  the  two 
parties  converged  upon  one  another. 

"Don't  see  the  Prof,"  remarked  Fat. 

"He  and  the  rest  of  them  may  be  in  camp." 

"Gee  whizz,  but  I'm  hungry,"  announced  Jinks. 

The  four  figures  proved  to  be  those  of  more  school- 
of-mines  students  like  Dick,  Fat,  and  Jinks,  and 
wearing  a  similar  outfit, — sombrero,  blue  shirt,  cor- 
duroys, and  laced  boots.  The  two  parties  came 
rapidly  together.  They  made  a  clean-cut,  fresh-com- 
plexioned,  enthusiastic  set.  Phil  felt  much  attracted 
by  them. 


ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL  135 

Greetings  were  heartily  exchanged. 

"Where've  you  been?"     This  from  the  four. 

"Over  here  looking  at  something.  Where's  the 
Prof?" 

"With  the  rest  of  the  bunch,  I  guess.  Did  you  get 
wet?" 

"No.  We  just  dodged  around  between  the 
drops!" 

"We  got  under  a  tree,  but  the  tree  leaked."  The 
four  frankly  eyed  Chet  and  Phil,  and  accepted  them 
without  questions.  "Where's  camp?  Dinner  ready?" 

"Will  be,  mighty  soon.  Want  to  wait  for  the  Prof 
and  the  other  fellows?" 

A  chorus  welled  high: 

"Not  on  your  life!" 

"No !    We're  starved." 

"They  can  get  their  own  chuck  when  they  come  in." 

"We  can  keep  some  coffee  for  them.  That's 
enough." 

"Did  it  snow  down  here?"  asked  one. 

"Just  rained  and  hailed." 

"Snowed  up  where  we  were.  Snowed  and  thun- 
dered at  the  same  time." 

"Had  a  big  landslide  over  yonder,"  said  Fat. 
"We've  been  looking  at  it.  Covered  up  a  petrified 
forest  for  these  two  lads.  Regular  jewelry  store." 

"That's  what  made  us  late.  We  had  to  go  around 
it.  Biggest  slide  we  ever  saw.  Forest?  Real  petrified 
forest?" 

"Sure  was.  Ruby  deposit,  besides.  These  two  lads 
will  show  you  samples,  if  you  don't  believe  me." 


136  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

So  chatting  and  exchanging  news  they  all  made  way 
to  camp. 

The  camp  in  sight  was  vacant  of  any  human  oc- 
cupants; therefore  the  remainder  of  the  school-of- 
mines  party  had  not  arrived.  Only  the  burros  were 
waiting.  Chet  and  Phil  strained  their  eyes,  hoping  to 
sight  the  truant  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye,  but  they 
were  unrewarded  for  their  hopes. 

During  dinner  great  fortunes  were  built  upon  the 
foundation  of  the  buried  forest.  Dick  was  engaged 
as  engineer,  with  Fat  and  Jinks  as  his  assistants.  Bob 
(another  senior)  was  to  be  superintendent  or  man- 
ager. A  place  was  found  for  everybody — on  shares, 
of  course;  while  the  part  of  Chet  and  Phil  seemed 
chiefly  to  be  the  disposing  of  a  large  income !  By  the 
time  that  the  final  cup  of  hot  coffee  had  been  stowed 
away,  the  flume  had  been  laid,  the  sluices  built,  the 
hydraulic  nozzle  trained,  the  earth  torn  apart,  and 
steady  loads  of  gems  and  jewel-like  minerals  were 
pouring  into  the  eager  market.  The  workings  were 
christened  the  Medicine  Elk  Mines ! 

Phil  glowed  all  through  as  he  pictured  how  sur- 
prised his  father  and  mother  would  be,  and  how  they 
would  live  in  luxury  for  the  rest  of  their  days.  So, 
according  to  Chet,  should  his  father,  the  rugged 
plainsman  and  cow-man,  Mr.  Simms  and  that  other 
veteran,  old  Jess  of  the  Texas  Trail,  the  Bar  B  fore- 
man. As  for  themselves,  they  would  of  course  buy 
a  large  ranch,  stock  it  well  and  run  it  as  a  pleasant 
side  issue. 

Now  the  school-of-mines  boys  were  beginning  to 


ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL  137 

grow  uneasy  about  the  missing  members  of  their 
party,  who  ought  to  be  coming  in.  Chet  and  Phil 
also  were  uneasy,  because  they  had  work  to  do. 

"Expect  we  ought  to  be  staking  out  that  claim," 
said  Chet,  bluntly.  "And  finding  those  hawsses  be- 
fore they're  plumb  lost  and  the  saddles  stick  fast  to 


'em." 


"If  you'll  wait  till  the  Prof  rolls  in,  we'll  help  you," 
offered  Dick.  "We  aren't  very  strong  on  catching 
loose  horses,  but  we  ought  to  know  how  to  tackle  a 
mining  proposition.  The  Prof  sure  does,  anyway. 
He's  wise  on  all  those  stunts.  You  might  as  well  go 
at  this  thing  right,  and  save  trouble.  See?" 

"It  looks  simple,  but  you  want  to  cover  all  the 
ground  you  can,  to  the  best  advantage,"  explained  the 
other  senior,  who  was  Bob.  *  "You've  got  a  valuable 
property  over  there." 

"We've  got  to  find  those  hawsses,  though,"  repeated 
Chet,  doggedly. 

"Yes;  and  report  to  Dan  and  Jim  before  dark,"  re- 
minded Phil.  "We've  a  lot  to  do." 

"There  come  the  other  fellows  now,"  exclaimed 
Fat.  "But  I  don't  see  the  Prof  or  the  two  femmes. 
Cracky !  Wonder  where  they  are." 

"Quien  sabe  that?"  spoke  Dick.  "Maybe  snowed 
up  or  buried  under.  Pshaw!  That's  the  dickens  of 
a  note,  isn't  it!" 

Two  more  school-of -mines  youths  had  appeared 
around  the  end  of  the  low  ridge,  where  was  located 
the  camp,  and  trudged  in. 

"Where's  the  Prof?    And  the  femmes?" 


138  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"We  don't  know.  Why?  Haven't  they  come? 
We  thought  they  were  here." 

"Well,  they  aren't." 

The  new  arrivals  were  much  taken  aback. 

"Didn't  you  bring  'em?"  they  demanded  of  Bob. 
"We  supposed  they  were  with  you,  of  course." 

"And  we  supposed  they  were  with  you." 

"Oh,  thunder!"  And  perturbed  exclamations  flew 
thick  and  fast. 

"That's  a  great  deal,  leaving  the  Prof  and  two  girls 
to  hoof  it  in  alone,"  complained  Dick.  "He  couldn't 
find  his  way  around  a  city  block,  if  there  were  any 
cobblestones  to  examine.  You  see,"  explained  Dick, 
politely,  to  Chet  and  Phil,  "that's  our  Prof— Pro- 
fessor Bronson.  He's  got  two  girls  with  him.  He's 
an  all  right  Prof,  but — " 

"What?  Bronson!"  ejaculated  together  Phil  and 
Chet;  and  even  Bonita  pricked  her  ears.  "Did  you 
say  Bronson?" 

"Yes;  Bronson.  Name's  Bronson.  Why?  Know 
him?" 

"Heavy  set,  with  full  beard,  brown,  and  bald  head? 
Always  picking  up  rocks?" 

"Right  you  are."     And— 

"Have  you  seen  him?"  rose  the  anxious  query. 

"Uh-uh;  but  we  know  him.  Know  him  mighty 
well,"  pronounced  Chet. 

"Has  he  got  a  couple  of  girls  with  him,  you  say?" 
asked  Phil,  eagerly. 

"Yes;  couple  of  femmes." 

"Don't  savvy  'femmes,'  me,"  grunted  Chet,  sus- 
piciously. 


ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL  139 

"Oh,  that's  just  a  word  we  use,  at  the  school,  for 
girls.  French  for  'women,'  "  enlightened  Dick,  im- 
patiently. 

"Bet  you  they're  Cherry  and  Molly,"  said  Phil  to 
Chet. 

"One's  Miss  Bronson,  the  Prof's  daughter,  and  the 
other's  Miss  Gibson,  a  friend,"  informed  Dick. 

"I  knew  it,  I  knew  it,"  declared  Chet,  his  eyes 
snapping — although  just  what  he  had  known,  and 
why,  then,  he  hadn't  spoken  of  it  before,  nobody 
might  tell.  "They're  plumb  lost,  or  else  they're  kid- 
naped. We  might  just  as  well  start  right  out  look- 
ing for  'em." 

"You  must  be  acquainted  with  the  girls,  too." 

"I  should  say  we  are,"  affirmed  Phil.  "Chet  and 
I  found  Cherry — she's  the  Prof's  daughter — when 
some  cattle  rustlers  had  her,  and  we  took  her  into 
the  round-up  camp,  and  she  lived  with  Chet  and  his 
father  on  the  Bar  B  ranch  until  we  found  her  own 
father,  the  next  year,  while  we  were  trailing  cows 
up  from  New  Mexico.  We  call  her  Cherry;  expect 
'Gwen'  's  the  name  you've  heard  her  called.  And 
we've  met  Molly  Gibson,  too.  They  were  both  on 
our  Circle  K  sheep  range,  and  last  summer  they  were 
forted  with  us  when  we  fought  off  the  Indians,  in 
this  very  park.  The  Professor  was  there,  of  course. 
We're  always  meeting  up  with  them,  in  the  mountains 
and  they're  always  in  some  sort  of  trouble." 

"Might  just  as  well  start  out  looking  for  'em," 
reiterated  Chet,  fidgety.  "No  use  waiting.  They'll 
not  turn  up.  They'll  have  to  be  trailed  and  located 
and  brought  in." 


140  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"You  seem  pretty  positive  about  it,"  commented 
Bob. 

"Yes,  I  am,"  retorted  Chet.  "When  that  Pro- 
fessor gets  in  the  mountains,  something  happens  every 
time.  He's  lost,  or  kidnaped,  or  else  he's  packing  so 
many  rocks  about  that  he  can't  navigate." 

"Or  somebody  may  be  hurt.  He's  got  the  girls 
with  him,  you  know,"  suggested  Fat. 

"Somebody  may  be  hurt,"  assented  Phil.  "But 
we'll  trust  Cherry  to  look  out  for  herself — and  that 
Molly's  no  slouch,  either." 

"Guess  we'd  better  hike  out,  then,  and  see  if  we 
can't  round  them  up,"  said  Dick.  "Come  on,  fellows. 
Give  a  yell,  first.  All  together.  Mines  yell — "  and 
at  the  downward  sweep  of  his  hand,  standing  they 
volleyed  a  lusty,  rousing 

"'Rah,  'Rah!  M-I-N-E-S! 
Mines!  Mines!  Mines!" 

It  echoed  from  hill  to  hill.  Bonita  and  her  pups 
waked,  to  stare  bewildered  by  the  great  commotion. 
While  the  echoes  died  all  eyes  swept  the  country  round 
about,  and  all  ears  were  held  to  catch  some  answer- 
ing token  from  the  missing  three. 

But  the  red  landscape  of  ridge  and  valley  encom- 
passing replied  not  with  shout  or  wave  from  moving 
figure,  and  the  snowy  mass  of  Red  Chief  revealed  no 
toiling  specks,  belated  for  camp. 

"Wait  a  minute  and  try  again,"  said  Dick.  "If  that 
doesn't  fetch  them,  we'll  start  after  'em." 


ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL  141 

"No  use  waiting,"  grunted  Chet,  as  positive  as 
ever. 

Presently  again  they  gave  the  yell  (Phil  and  Chet 
joining),  and  "whooped"  vigorously.  No  news  of 
any  nature  resulted. 

In  the  afternoon  light  old  Red  Chief,  snowy  man- 
tled as  to  his  shoulders,  his  head  veiled  by  clouds, 
loomed  huge  and  austere.  Owing  to  the  clouds  an- 
other early  evening  was  due  to  settle  over  Lost  Park, 
and  particularly  this  western  section  of  it. 

The  campers  exchanged  worried,  questioning 
glances. 

"Well,  fellows,  let's  hustle,"  directed  Dick.  "It's 
going  to  be  dark  soon.  Let's  spread  out,  all  along 
the  mountain  on  both  sides  of  camp.  Don't  yell  any- 
thing but  the  word  'Mines,'  so  we  won't  confuse  our 
yells  and  theirs.  But  if  you  find  them  whoop  so  the 
rest  of  us  '11  know.  I'm  sorry,"  he  said  to  Phil  and 
Chet,  "but  you'll  have  to  stake  out  your  claim  and 
catch  those  horses  alone.  We've  got  a  job.  So  long." 

"I  reckon  we're  in  on  this,"  replied  Chet,  stoutly, 
flushing.  "Do  you  think  we're  going  to  chase  up 
mines  or  hawsses  while  you  fellows  are  chasing  the 
Professor  and  those  two  girls?  What  do  you  take 
us  for?  Come  on.  Too  much  talk." 

"There  aren't  rubies  or  horses  enough  in  the  world 
to  make  us  do  a  trick  like  that,"  supported  Phil,  hot 
at  the  thought. 

"Good  for  you,"  approved  several  voices.  "That's 
the  stuff!" 

"It  sure   is,"   resumed   Dick,   hastily.     "All   right. 


i42  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Scatter  out,  boys.  We've  got  to  find  those  people  be- 
fore dark." 

Away  they  all  went,  dividing  into  ones  and  twos, 
and  diverging  so  as  to  cover  a  wide  space. 

Chet  and  Phil,  followed  by  Bonita  and  her  pups 
(now  ready  for  more  adventures),  kept  together. 

Soon  the  mountain-side  was  rife  with  the  hail  of 
"Mines!"  shouted  by  a  dozen  voices.  Chet  and  Phil 
heard,  and  occasionally  shouted,  themselves.  Mean- 
while they  listened  for  any  answer  that  might  indicate 
the  Professor  and  the  girls,  and  they  continually 
scanned  bench  and  slope  and  hollow,  before,  behind, 
and  on  either  side. 

As  they  climbed  from  the  basin  higher  along  the 
main  flank  of  Red  Chief,  they  began  to  encounter 
evidences  of  the  landslide;  if  not  of  the  landslide,  at 
least  of  a  landslide  fully  as  large.  Rock  had  been 
tossed  and  turned  and  reburied,  cedars  uprooted  and 
likewise  buried,  and  earth  had  plowed  along  cutting 
swaths  and  leveling  all  obstructions  as  easily  as  a  snow 
avalanche.  This  made  traveling  difficult. 

"Jiminy!"  puffed  Chet,  as  in  the  midst  of  jumbled 
rocks,  brush,  and  soft  new  earth  they  had  to  pause 
to  breathe.  "If  the  Prof  and  those  girls  were  caught 
by  one  of  these  slides,  they're  gone  beaver. 
Wagh!" 

"They  shore  are,"  soberly  responded  Phil,  sick  with 
the  thought. 

The  tremendous  power  of  the  landslide,  as  shown 
in  the  destruction  wrought,  imbued  them  with  a  sen- 
sation of  awe.  Besides,  a  chill  was  in  the  air,  dusk 


ON  THE  RESCUE  TRAIL  143 

was  threatening,  and  far  below — farther  than  they 
had  supposed — was  camp. 

They  kept  on,  trudging  through  the  soft  earth 
which  cumbered  their  climb.  The  shouts  of  "Mines !" 
were  faint  now,  as  the  shouters  were  spreading  wider 
or  were  being  left  behind.  The  sun  had  set.  It 
seemed  time  to  turn  back.  The  Professor  and  the 
girls  apparently  had  not  been  found. 

"We'll  go  a  little  farther,  anyhow,"  said  Chet,  un- 
willing to  quit.  "Want  to  do  all  we  can." 

"Here's  the  end  of  the  slide — or  the  beginning!" 
exclaimed  Phil.  "Isn't  it  ?  We're  on  hard-pan.  Now 
we  can  travel  faster.  Good !" 

"That's  right.  Good!"  sighed  Chet.  "Well,  keep 
a-shouting." 

Sure  enough.  The  jumble  of  uptorn  and  reburied 
rocks  and  trees,  assorted  through  soft  earth,  had 
ceased;  and  here  began  a  wide,  smoothish  stretch  of 
mountain-side  swept  almost  bare  of  debris.  The 
formation  under  foot  was  hard  gravel  and  ledge,  over 
which  had  slipped  the  first  of  the  slide,  gathering  way 
to  tear  and  heave  and  rumble  adown  the  mountain. 

Treading  freely,  and  somehow  feeling  hopeful,  the 
two  boys  had  advanced  but  a  short  distance  into  this 
open,  irregular  tract,  when  Phil  varied  their  shouting 
by  his  sudden  call,  across  to  Chet : 

"I  see  a  cave !" 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE  CAVE  IN   THE   MOUNTAIN 

CHET  obliqued  over,  to  see  also.  Before,  the  moun- 
tain-side, now  darkening  with  the  dusk,  slanted  up- 
ward more  sharply.  In  the  midst  of  it  opened  a  black 
hole,  as  large  as  a  double  doorway. 

They  approached  it  steadily  but  cautiously.  A 
black  cave-mouth,  far  up  on  the  lonely  slope  of  a 
strange  mountain,  at  dusk,  has  a  mysterious,  threaten- 
ing appearance  that  makes  one  expect  almost  any- 
thing. Each  of  the  boys  shifted  his  gun  into  a  readier 
position,  and  Phil's  thumb  bent  over  the  hammer  of 
his  carbine,  for  instant  cocking.  With  ears  pricked, 
as  if  she  shared  in  the  watchfulness,  Bonita  walked 
behind. 

"It  looks  like  some  more  old  workings,"  hazarded 
Phil,  in  a  low  voice,  as  they  drew  near. 

"Let's  separate  a  little,"  bade  Chet.  "So  whatever 
comes  out  of  there  can  go  between  us.  You  can't  tell 
what'll  happen  next,  on  this  old  mountain!" 

They  separated  and  approached  from  opposite 
sides,  Bonita  following  Phil,  the  pups,  in  line,  follow- 
ing Chet.  But  the  mouth  of  the  cave  maintained  black 
silence,  and  presently  they  all  might  peer  in. 

Yes,  more  old  workings  it  was,  for  a  dim  glimpse 
of  timbering  was  given.  Evidently  it  was  the  mouth 

144 


THE  CAVE  IN  THE  MOUNTAIN       145 

of  a  tunnel.  Chet  sidled  farther,  craning  and  eying 
and  sniffing. 

"Don't  smell  bear  or  any  other  thing/'  he  remarked. 
"Huh !  Kind  of  musty,  is  all.  I  believe  that  landslide 
uncovered  it.  Guess  I'll  go  on  in." 

"We'd  better  be  getting  back  to  camp,  hadn't  we  ?" 
questioned  Phil.  "We  can't  do  much  more  to-night. 
It'll  be  plumb  dark  in  a  few  minutes." 

He  gazed  back,  down  the  mountain.  The  school- 
of-mines  crowd  must  have  made  a  huge  fire,  perhaps 
to  guide  any  wanderers  in,  for  its  ruddy  twinkle  could 
be  descried  even  at  this  distance. 

Suddenly  Chet  exclaimed;  there  was  a  rush  and  a 
scurry,  and  as  Phil  involuntarily  sprang  into  readi- 
ness, cocking  his  carbine,  with  a  quick  dash  Bonita 
had  seized  something. 

It  was  a  rabbit.  Phil  reached  it  too  late,  for 
Bonita  had  instantly  broken  its  back. 

"It  was  in  the  tunnel,"  called  Chet.  "Now  we've 
got  our  supplies." 

"Why?" 

"I  want  to  see  how  far  back  this  goes.  'Twon't 
take  long.  May  be  another  mine,"  said  Chet,  stub- 
bornly. "Wish  we  had  a  torch." 

"Well,"  criticised  Phil,  "we'll  never  find  the  Pro- 
fessor and  the  girls,  and  locate  our  claim,  and  catch 
those  horses,  and  report  to  Dan  and  Jim,  and  beat 
those  three  hostiles  to  the  top,  and  discover  the 
Trapper's  Mine,  if  we  stop  and  examine  the  inside 
of  every  hole." 

"Aw,    'twon't    take    long,"    repeated    Chet.    "The 


146  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Professor  and  the  girls  may  be  in  here  some- 
where." 

"There's  no  sign  of  them,  is  there?"  retorted  Phil, 
who  was  tired  and  hungry,  and  intent  upon  finishing 
their  old  business  before  assuming  new.  "Maybe 
they're  in  camp  by  this  time." 

"Twon't  take  long,"  reiterated  Chet  He  ven- 
tured in. 

With  a  last  glance  over  the  dark  expanse  of  rock 
and  soil  and  scraggy  tree  extending  below  and  on 
either  hand,  while  above,  into  the  solemn,  brooding 
sky  mottled  with  clouds  rose  the  ghostly,  glimmering 
shoulders  of  the  mountain,  Phil  stepped  after. 

The  interior  of  the  tunnel  mouth  was  decidedly 
gruesome — being  vague  and  musty  and  chill.  Chet 
was  fumbling  and  grumbling.  He  struck  a  match  and 
poked  with  it  here  and  there.  And  from  a  cedar 
timber  stripping  off  a  stringy  filament  of  old  bark,  he 
lighted  that.  Twisted,  it  formed  a  passable  torch. 

The  tunnel,  for  by  its  timbering  it  was  a  tunnel, 
seemed  to  lead  back  indefinitely.  By  the  nature  and 
shape  of  the  timbering,  which  resembled  the  timber- 
ing in  the  workings  discovered  just  before  the  medi- 
cine elk  appeared,  it  was  another  ancient  tunnel, 
driven  in  by  forgotten  Spanish  explorers  from 
Mexico. 

"Did  you  notice?  It  was  sort  of  choked,  at  the 
mouth,  and  there  aren't  any  bats  or  anything  else  in 
here,"  spoke  Chet,  wisely.  "It's  been  sealed  up,  all 
right,  and  that  landslide  uncovered  it.  We  ought  to 
find  some  gold,  lying  'round." 


THE  CAVE  IN  THE  MOUNTAIN       147 

"We  ought  to  get  out,"  returned  Phil.  "What's 
the  sense — "  but  Chet  interrupted. 

"Listen!"  he  cried  eagerly.  "I  hear  people  talk- 
ing!" 

He  had  been  poking  about,  holding  his  bark  torch 
high  and  low,  and  against  the  walls  whenever  a  spot 
glittered.  Now  he  stood,  as  if  stuck  fast,  close  be- 
side the  farther  wall,  while  he  applied  ear  to  the  dark- 
ness beyond. 

"Listen!"  he  directed  again.     "Aw,  shucks!" 

Halted  in  his  tracks,  Phil  did  listen.  Nothing  came 
to  him,  except  the  drip  of  water,  inside,  and  from  out- 
side the  sough  of  the  night  breeze,  and,  distant,  the 
howl  of  a  wolf.  Even  Bonita  and  the  pups  were 
silent. 

"I  don't  hear  anybody,"  he  said.  "Neither  did  you. 
Come  on.  I'm  going  out.  Do  you  want  to  stay  in 
here  all  night?" 

"I  did,  too!  I  did  hear  somebody,"  asserted  Chet, 
irritated.  "Wait,  now.  There !  Hear  'em  for  your- 
self. Don't  you?  It's  Cherry!  Yes,  sir;  it's  Cherry! 
I  know  her  voice.  Sure  it  is !"  And  raising  his  own 
voice,  excitedly,  he  "whoopeed"  high  and  long. 

The  tunnel  echoed  dismally.  As  the  echoes  died, 
Phil  listened  hard;  but  he  had  heard  no  voices,  and 
now  he  could  hear  no  response. 

"Ouch !"  exclaimed  Chet,  as  his  flimsy  torch  burned 
his  fingers.  He  hastily  dropped  it,  and  they  were 
plunged  into  inky  blackness.  By  this  sign  they  must 
be  farther  in  the  tunnel  than  they  had  thought.  No 
trace  of  the  mouth  could  be  sighted.  Maybe  it  had 


148  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

closed  behind  them!  Phil's  heart  leaped  into  his 
throat.  But  presently  he  could  descry,  behind  them,  a 
bright  star,  shining  in. 

Chet  was  calling. 

"Where  are  you?"  he  asked.  "Did  they  answer? 
Come  over  here." 

"Strike  a  match." 

"No.  Want  to  save  'em.  May  need  'em.  Did  they 
answer?  Did  you  hear  any  answer?" 

Phil  groped  across,  and  joined  him. 

"No,  I  didn't  hear  any  answer.  Didn't  hear  any- 
thing at  all,  except  you,"  accused  Phil. 

"Put  your  ear  right  here,"  demanded  Chet,  again 
excited.  "Where  are  you?  Gimme  your  head — 
lemme  grab  holt  yore  ear"  (when  deeply  stirred 
Chet's  cow-puncher  speech  always  cropped  out).  Phil 
felt  himself  seized  by  the  head,  drawn  forward,  and 
his  left  ear  pressed  against  the  cold,  damp  rock. 
"Now,  you  listen,"  ordered  Chet.  "Don't  you  ever 
tell  this  chile  he  doesn't  hear  things,  when  he  do." 

Phil  did;  and  to  his  great  astonishment  he  heard 
a  voice,  faint  and  clear  as  when  heard  through  a 
telephone. 

"There,"  was  saying  somebody  who  sounded  much 
like  a  girl;  "this  is  beautiful,  and  I  know  if  we  never 
get  out  and  are  turned  to  mummies  I  shall  always 
be  glad  I  came." 

It  certainly  was  Cherry.  Nobody  but  Cherry  would 
make  such  a  speech. 

"A  very  unusual  exposition  of  radioactivity  or 
triboluminescence,"  remarked  another  voice — that  of 
a  man. 


THE  CAVE  IN  THE  MOUNTAIN       149 

"Great  Oesar's  ghost!"  ejaculated  Phil.  "There's 
the  Professor,  all  right." 

"What  did  he  say?  What  did  he  say?"  demanded 
Chet,  wildly. 

"Something  about  something;  don't  ask  me;  jaw- 
breakers," answered  Phil. 

"How  romantic,"  sounded,  in  those  faint,  thin 
accents,  a  second  girl  voice. 

"Aw,  that's  Molly.  I  heard,  plain,"  exclaimed 
Chet,  with  ear  beside  Phil's.  "She's  always  saying 
'How  romantic !' ' 

"Hurrah!"  cheered  Phil,  he  also  excited.  "We've 
found  'em!  They're  in  the  cave.  Yell,"  and  he 
whooped  and  shouted. 

Whooped  and  shouted  Chet.  While  the  echoes 
died,  they  listened  for  response.  None  came.  The 
echoes  died  to  silence,  a  deep,  black  silence. 

"Cherry!  Oh,  Professor!"  they  called.  "Where 
are  you?  What's  the  matter?  Hello!" 

As  before,  there  was  no  response  whatsoever. 

"What  ails  'em,  anyhow?"  complained  Chet. 

"Put  your  ear  against  the  rock.  They're  still  talk- 
ing." 

So  they  were. 

"I  suppose  we'd  better  sit  right  here  until  we're 
found,"  was  saying  Cherry.  "Or  until  we  do  turn 
into  mummies.  We  ought  to  have  left  a  thread,  as 
a  guide,  as  we  walked  along." 

"We  didn't  have  a  thread,"  objected  Molly. 

"We  could  have  unraveled  a  stocking,"  informed 
Cherry,  in  her  sprightly  way. 


150  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Chet  and  Phil  chuckled.    Cherry  was  smart. 

"The  thread  was  the  method  of  Theseus  when  he 
solved  the  labyrinth  of  the  Minotaurus,"  commented 
the  Professor,  as  if  he  were  delivering  a  lecture. 

"How  romantic,"  breathed  Molly — as  customary 
with  her. 

"The  students  will  be  searching  for  us,  I  expect," 
continued  the  Professor.  "Fortunately,  we  have  our 
lunch,  and  can  husband  that;  and  we  shall  not  suffer 
for  lack  of  water;  and  the  luminescence  is  truly  a  re- 
markable feature." 

"Well,  if  Chet  and  Phil  were  around,  they'd  find 
us,"  asserted  Cherry.  "I  know  they  would.  And  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  they  did,  too!" 

"Good!    That's  the  talk!"  uttered  Phil.    And— 

"Wagh!"  agreed  Chet,  much  pleased. 

"That  would  be  very  romantic.  It  certainly 
would,"  declared  Molly.  "And  do  you  really  think 
it's  possible?" 

"They  always  turn  up  just  when  we  need  some- 
body," asserted  Cherry,  loyally.  "And  maybe  Mr. 
Grizzly  Dan  will  be  with  them.  But  I  feel  them  in 
my  bones,  anyway." 

"They  would  be  very  capable,  if  they  were  informed 
of  our  plight,"  said  the  Professor.  "Very  capable  in- 
deed. But  we  must  depend  on  the  students,  I  think. 
They  will  do  their  best;  be- assured  of  that." 

"Just  the  same,  I  expect  Phil  and  Chet,"  insisted 
Cherry.  "I've  been  sending  thought  messages  to 
them." 

"But  Jiminy  Christmas,  we're  right  here,"  shouted 


THE  CAVE  IN  THE  MOUNTAIN       151 

Phil.  "Where  are  you?  I'm  Phil,  and  here's  Chet. 
In  the  cave." 

"Whoopee!"  yelped  Chet. 

But  all  the  reply  that  they  received  was  one  of 
Molly's  "How  romantics." 

"That  beats  the  dickens!"  grumbled  Chet.  "We 
can  hear  them,  but  they  don't  hear  us." 

"But  we  can't  even  hear  them,  unless  we're  right 
against  the  wall,  at  this  one  spot!"  pronounced  Philj 
struck  with  an  idea.  "See?  Try  it."  They  did.  "It's 
a  whispering  gallery;  only  the  wall  carries  the  sound! 
By  spots !  If  they  were  in  the  right  place,  against 
the  wall,  they  could  hear  us,  same  as  we  hear  them!" 

"Aw,  shucks!"  protested  Chet.  "What  are  we 
going  to  do,  then?" 

"There  must  be  another  opening.  They  didn't 
come  in  this  way;  we  didn't  see  any  tracks,"  rea- 
soned Phil.  "We'd  better  go  back  to  camp  and  tell 
the  fellows,  and  all  start  out  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing. It's  too  dark  to  do  much  else." 

"No,  sir !"  vowed  Chet,  obstinately.  "That  Cherry 
said  we  were  to  find  her,  and  we  will,  too.  What's 
the  use  in  wasting  time  till  morning?  It's  dark  in 
here  anyhow,  and  I'm  going  on  in.  This  tunnel's 
liable  to  lead  clear  through  to  where  they  are. 
Savvy?" 

"All  right.  I'm  with  you,"  promptly  answered 
Phil.  "We've  got  to  have  a  light,  though.  Make  anj 
other  torch." 

They  felt  about  them,  and  stripped  more  of  the 


152  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

stringy  bark  from  a  cedar  post.  Chet  touched  match 
to  another  twist,  and  they  pushed  forward. 

"Remember  the  way,  now,"  cautioned  Chet. 

The  tunnel,  its  roof  two  feet  above  their  heads,  its 
sides  wider  than  they  could  span,  led  straight  into  the 
mountain.  Roof  and  sides  were  dank  with  seepage, 
which  in  some  places  slowly  dripped;  but  the  timber- 
ing that  supported  the  roof  and  walls  seemed  sound. 
Occasionally  spots  glistened  in  the  torchlight — glis- 
tened with  the  moisture  or  perhaps  with  mica.  The 
boys  did  not  pause  to  see  whether  the  glisten  might 
be  gold. 

Their  footsteps  rang  in  hollow  fashion.  With 
patter,  patter,  Bonita  and  the  pups,  much  subdued, 
trotted  after.  The  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  behind,  was 
swallowed  in  the  darkness,  except  as  it  was  indicated 
by  a  few  stars  that  it  framed.  And  the  farther 
the  boys  went,  the  less  in  number  these  became. 
Finally  all  vanished,  as  if  the  tunnel  made  a  turn. 

"Let's  try  'em  again,"  proposed  Phil,  as  he  and 
Chet  halted  to  start  another  torch. 

Groping,  they  sought  along  the  walls  for  more  con- 
versation. At  first  they  were  unsuccessful.  As  Phil 
had  said,  the  sounds  seemed  to  be  repeated  only  in* 
spots.  Chet  was  just  lamenting  "Oh,  shucks !"  when 
suddenly  they  both  heard  Cherry's  brisk  voice  an- 
nounce clearly: 

"There!  Listen!  I  heard  somebody.  He  said  'Oh, 
shucks'!" 

"I  did  that,"  called  Chet,  eagerly.     "We're  looking 


THE  CAVE  IN  THE  MOUNTAIN       153 

for  you.  Hello!  We're  looking  for  you.  Is  that 
you,  Cherry?  Hello!" 

"You  don't  give  me  a  chance  to  answer,"  reproved 
Cherry  calmly.  "You're  Chet,  aren't  you?  Where's 
Phil?" 

"Right  here." 

"Hello,  Cherry!"  greeted  Phil. 

"There!"  they  heard  Cherry  say.  "It's  Chet  and 
Phil.  Didn't  I  tell  you?  They're  looking  for  us." 

"Oh!"  gasped  Molly.  "How  romantic!  But  / 
don't  hear  them." 

"Nor  I,  either,"  confessed  the  Professor.  "I  fear 
that  it's  a  hallucination." 

"Not  a  bit,  Papa,"  denied  Cherry.  "You  and  Molly 
put  your  ears  on  the  wall  beside  mine,  and  you'll  hear 
perfectly.  Say  'Shucks/  Chet." 

"Aw,  shucks!"  repeated  Chet — half  sheepishly  and 
half  in  earnest. 

"Hello,  Professor.  Hello,  Molly,"  addressed 
Phil. 

"Hello,"  they  responded. 

"Bless  my  soul,"  added  the  Professor. 

"Whereabouts  are  you?"  asked  Chet. 

"Right  here,  in  a  beautiful  cave,"  informed  Cherry. 
"Where  are  you?" 

"In  the  cave,  too." 

"You  must  be  on  the  outside  of  the  inside,  and 
we're  on  the  inside  of  the  outside,"  reasoned  Cherry; 
"because  we  can't  see  you.  Is  it  beautiful  where  you 
are?" 


154  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"I  should  say  not!"  laughed  Phil.    "Dark  as  pitch." 

"Oh,  here  it's  nice  and  light,"  proclaimed  Cherry. 
"The  ground  is  transparent,  you  know,  and  the  sun 
shines  right  through." 

"Aw,  fiddle!"  scoffed  Chet,  bluntly.  "There  isn't 
any  sun.  It's  night." 

"But  it  can't  be.  It's  morning;  I  know  it's  morn- 
ing, and  we've  been  in  here  all  night,"  protested 
Cherry. 

"It's  night,"  assured  Phil.  "Really,  it  is.  The  sun 
set  before  we  came  in,  and  a  minute  ago  when  we 
looked  back  we  could  see  the  stars,  outside  the  tunnel." 

"Well,  then,"  declared  Cherry,  "Papa  and  Molly 
and  I  have  gone  clear  through  the  earth,  to  where 
it's  daylight.  Maybe  we're  in  China.  Isn't  that  won- 
derful? I  knew,"  they  heard  her  say  triumphantly 
to  the  others,  "that  we'd  gone  a  long  way." 

"Gracious!"  sighed  Molly.  "The  situation  grows 
more  romantic  every  second!" 

"The  question  is,"  spoke  the  Professor,  "how  shall 
we  unite  our  parties.  How  far  are  you  from  the 
opening  by  which  you  entered?" 

"Not  extra  far,  Professor,"  replied  Phil.  "But  it 
isn't  the  same  opening  that  you  used.  We  didn't  see 
your  tracks.  We're  in  a  tunnel — an  old  mine  tunnel." 

"Yes;  we're  in  an  artificial  chamber,  too,  of  some 
kind,"  vouchsafed  the  Professor.  "The  luminescence 
is  extraordinary.  I  judge  from  your  remarks  as  to 
the  darkness  that  you  are  not  witnessing  the  same 
phenomenon." 

"No.    I  guess  not,"  agreed  Phil.    "Are  we,  Chet?" 


THE  CAVE  IN  THE  MOUNTAIN       155 

"Triboluminescence,  triboflorescence,  and  tribo- 
phosphorescence ;  the  results  of  the  three  phenomena 
are  closely  related,  and  quite  similar,"  instructed  the 
Professor.  "This  amidst  which  we  are  sitting  seems 
to  be  a  radioactivity." 

"All  the  'trib'  here  is  tribulation,"  informed  Chet. 

"Ours  is  nothing  but  daylight,"  insisted  Cherry, 
flatly;  "and  I  don't  care  what  names  Papa  calls  it. 
Were  you  looking  for  us,  really?" 

"Yes." 

"How  did  you  find  out  we  were  lost?" 

"Those  school-of-mines  boys  told  us.  We  were  in 
their  camp.  We're  on  a  prospecting  trip  with  Grizzly 
Dan  and  Flapjack  Jim;  hunting  for  a  mine." 

"Are  those  other  boys  looking  for  us  ?" 

"Sure." 

"Then,"  declared  Cherry,  in  her  decisive  voice 
which  always  was  saying  the  quaint  and  original, 
"you  must  beat  them  and  find  us  first.  You  come 
just  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  we'll  wait  right  here. 
Have  you  anything  to  eat  on  the  way?" 

"A  rabbit;  and  four  puppies.  They're  Bonita's 
puppies.  She's  along." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  eat  the  puppies!"  objected 
Cherry.  "Molly  and  I  want  to  see  them.  Please  be 
careful  of  them.  The  rabbit  will  be  plenty.  It  isn't 
far  through  the  earth.  This  must  be  a  magic  cave. 
We  started  with  only  some  bacon  sandwiches,  and 
we've  got  part  of  them  still." 

"But  where  are  you  ?"  implored  Phil. 

"Right  here,"  repeated  Cherry.     "You  follow  your 


156  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

voice,  and  once  in  a  while  we'll  speak  to  you,  to  guide 
you." 

"We  can't  see.  We'll  run  out  of  torches,"  debated 
Chet,  doubtfully. 

"You  can  hear,  just  the  same,"  reminded  Cherry. 
"We  can  call  Bonita,  and  you  can  tie  a  string  to  her 
and  let  her  play  blind  man's  dog." 

"Aw,  she  doesn't  hear  you.  We'd  have  to  hold 
her  against  the  wall,  to  make  her  hear.  We'll  come 
as  far  as  we  can,  and  she  can  lead  us  out  if  we  get 
stuck." 

"Now  we're  coming,"  warned  Phil. 

They  lighted  another  twist  of  cedar  bark,  and  with 
Chet  holding  it  they  proceeded  at  the  best  pace  prac- 
ticable. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE    MYSTERIES   OF   THE    CAVE 

THE  tunnel  continued  without  interruption.  Occa- 
sionally niches  had  been  hollowed  into  its  sides,  but 
they  seemed  empty.  The  boys  were  in  too  much  of 
a  hurry  to  examine  details;  the  finding  of  the  Pro- 
fessor's party  was  of  more  importance  than  gold  or 
relics.  But  the  way  appeared  to  lead  on  intermi- 
nably. 

"Keep  talking  to  'em,"  bade  Chet. 

"Coming,  coming,  coming,"  signaled  he  and  Phil, 
in  measured  accents,  as  they  advanced. 

Again  they  paused,  for  a  moment,  to  apply  ear  to 
rocky  wall.  Now  they  heard  nothing  but  their  own 
hearts. 

"Hello!"  invited  Phil.  "Hello,  Cherry!  Hello, 
Professor  and  Molly!" 

But  Cherry  and  the  Professor  and  Molly  did  not 
respond.  Evidently  the  sound-waves  did  not  strike 
this  particular  point. 

"The  dickens  I"  fretted  Phil. 

"Come  on,"  bade  Chet.  "We  haven't  got  any 
torches,  and  the  bark  in  here'll  be  too  damp  to  burn." 

So,  with  Chet  as  torch-bearer  and  Phil  dangling  the 
rabbit,  on  they  penetrated.  Behind,  trotted,  with 
shuffle  of  pad  and  scratch  of  claw,  Bonita  and  her 

157 


158  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

four  pups,  all  solemn  as  if  oppressed  by  the  strange 
route. 

Suddenly  Phil  made  a  discovery.  "It's  getting 
lighter  ahead,  Chet !"  he  announced  doubtfully.  "Isn't 
it?" 

"Wagh!  Coming  out  into  daylight  land,  maybe," 
grunted  Chet.  "Let's  see.  We've  got  plenty  of 
matches,  anyhow."  And  he  blew  out  the  torch. 

Instantly  darkness  closed  about  them;  but  as  they 
stood,  blinking  and  peering,  the  darkness  gradually 
lightened  to  a  faint  grayness.  Phil  could  trace  the 
outlines  of  his  hand,  held  before  him,  and  he  could 
distinguish  Chet  and  the  surface  of  the  tunnel  wall. 

"It  can't  be  daylight;  of  course  it  can't,"  he  as- 
serted. "That  is,"  and  he  weakened,  "I  don't  under- 
stand how  it  can  be  daylight,  yet." 

"Listen!  I  hear  Cherry,"  said  Chet.  "Put  your  ear 
to  the  wall  and  you  can  hear  her,  too.  Hello, 
Cherry." 

"Hello,"  answered  Cherry's  crisp  little  voice. 
"Why  didn't  you  answer  before?  We've  been  talk- 
ing to  you  all  this  time." 

"We've  been  talking  to  you,  and  you  didn't  an- 
swer," accused  Phil.  "Where  are  you?" 

"Right  here,  waiting." 

"But  we're  getting  into  daylight — or  something; 
and  we  don't  see  you. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you?  Well,  you  keep  on.  We 
won't  stir.  Papa's  asleep,  anyway." 

"Heard  from  the  school-of -mines  fellows?" 

"Not  a  thing.     You'll  beat  if  you  hurry." 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  CAVE      159 

They  resumed  the  trail.  Now  they  walked  with- 
out a  torch;  they  had  to  advance  cautiously,  for  the 
atmosphere  was  dim  and  uncertain;  but  it  was  per- 
meated with  a  pale  glow  that  thinned  it,  and  barely 
showed  the  way.  The  pale  glow  seemed  to  ooze, 
rather  than  to  shine;  and  only  when  the  boys  roughly 
rubbed  the  sides  of  the  tunnel  could  they  descry  any 
definite  spots.  Their  fingers  left  a  slight  trace, 
brighter  than  the  surrounding  surface. 

"It  doesn't  seem  like  phosphorus,  because  it  doesn't 
come  off,"  argued  Phil,  examining  his  finger-tips. 

"It's  getting  brighter,"  proclaimed  Chet. 

Either  that  was  the  case,  or  their  eyes  were  becom- 
ing accustomed  to  the  atmosphere.  Yes,  it  was 
brighter;  and  near  ahead  was  to  be  noted  a  much 
brighter  area,  as  if  the  boys  were  about  to  emerge 
from  the  tunnel  into  the  outer  world. 

"Whoopee!"  they  called,  encouraged,  and  signaling 
their  approach. 

But  no  "Whoopee!"  responded. 

"They  aren't  there,  after  all,  or  else  they're  plumb 
asleep,"  grumbled  Chet.  "I  can't  hear  'em  along  the 
wall,  either." 

The  way  slowly  brightened,  helped  by  the  reflection 
of  the  area  ahead.  They  were  treading  a  road 
lighted  by  enchantment,  so  mysterious  and  silent  it 
extended.  And  presently,  from  their  tunnel  they 
stepped  forth,  staring  and  expectant,  into  a  high, 
large,  round  vaulted  chamber,  all  softly  illuminated. 
Only  one  step  within  they  took,  Phil  pressing  close 
behind  Chet. 


160  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Wagh !"  uttered  Chet,  stopping  so  short  as  almost 
to  recoil.  He  pointed. 

"Who's  that?"  gasped  Phil,  also  startled. 

Bonita,  slipping  past,  likewise  halted,  gazing  with 
ears  pricked. 

High,  large,  round,  and  vaulted  was  the  chamber, 
and  silent  with  a  strange  hush.  By  sign  of  numerous 
openings,  from  it  radiated  many  tunnels  like  their 
own.  Seated  in  a  stone  chair  in  the  center,  profile 
outlined,  was  what  appeared  to  be  a  human  figure. 
While  they  stared  it  did  not  move.  Chet  half  raised 
his  gun;  Phil,  too,  involuntarily  made  ready. 

"Hello,"  quavered  Chet.     "Who  is  it?" 

The  figure  made  no  response. 

"Comme  la  va?  Quien  es?  (How  do  you  do? 
Who  are  you?)"  pursued  Chet,  more  boldly,  in  Span- 
ish, for  the  figure  might  be  Mexican. 

Still  there  was  no  response,  by  voice  or  movement. 

"I  don't  believe  it  is  anybody,"  after  a  pause  said 
Phil,  striving  to  keep  his  tones  from  being  shaky.  "It 
isn't  you — or  Molly,  is  it,  Cherry?"  he  demanded. 

"Don't  try  to  joke,"  quavered  Chet,  into  the  still- 
ness. "We're  liable  to  shoot." 

They  waited. 

"I'm  going  on,"  announced  Chet,  his  bulldog  pluck 
returned.  "Nobody  can  scare  me." 

"Same  here,"  declared  Phil. 

Together,  guns  poised,  they  strode  right  forward — 
but,  albeit,  making  a  cautious  little  circuit  which 
brought  them  around  more  in  front  of  the  figure. 
Bonita,  evidently  as  uncertain  as  they,  with  tail 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  CAVE      161 

drooped  and  ears  inquiring,  stuck  close  to  their  heels. 
The  pups  imitated  her. 

Nothing  happened.  Now  they  were  in  front  of  the 
figure.  Phil  rather  expected  an  outburst  of  laughter 
from  concealed  jokers — from  Cherry  and  Molly, 
probably,  in  one  of  those  tunnels.  However,  the  hush 
and  stillness  brooded  as  before,  and  was  scarcely 
broken  by  their  resolute  tread. 

"It's  a  mummy!  A  woman  mummy!  Squaw,  I 
guess,"  asserted  Chet,  scanning  keenly.  "See? 
Shucks!" 

"It's  a  girl,"  pronounced  Phil.  "What's  on  her 
lap?" 

They  approached  without  reserve.  Yes,  the  figure 
of  a  girl  it  was;  and  a  beautiful  young  girl,  long 
though  she  must  have  been  sitting  here.  Her  head 
was  uncovered;  her  hair,  in  twin  heavy  braids,  lay 
forward  upon  either  shoulder.  Her  face  was  oval  and 
her  features  regular :  her  closed  eyes  fringed  with 
heavy  lashes,  her  nose  small  and  straight,  her  chin 
round,  and  her  mouth  even  yet  curved  sweetly.  Her 
complexion  was  surprisingly  light,  showing  that  she 
was  not  an  Indian,  as  Indians  go.  At  least,  she  was 
not  a  northern  American  Indian. 

The  upper  part  of  her  body  was  clad  in  a  close 
jacket  of  smooth  whitish  skin,  richly  embroidered;  a 
short  skirt  of  woven  material,  apparently  dark  red, 
fell  over  her  knees.  Her  ankles  were  bared,  save  as 
moccasin  thongs  were  plaited  across  them;  and  her 
daintily  moccasined  feet  were  crossed.  Between  her 
two  hands,  in  her  lap,  was  a  burnt  clay  bowl;  and 


1 62  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

hanging  from  her  neck  was  a  necklace  of  large  stones. 

It  did  not  seem  that  she  had  been  embalmed;  it 
seemed  that  she  had  been  preserved  by  the  air,  pure 
and  sweet,  for  the  chamber  was  perfectly  ventilated. 
She  had  dried,  her  cheeks  had  lost  some  of  their  per- 
fect contour,  her  hands  had  shrunken,  but  about  her 
was  nothing  repelling  or  disagreeable.  Indeed,  she 
was  attractive. 

So  there  she  sat,  upright,  in  her  stone  chair,  with 
a  stone  step  for  a  footstool,  mysterious  amidst  the 
mysterious  pale  light  that  came  from  nowhere  and 
from  everywhere.  The  boys  were  not  now  afraid. 
Only  Bonita,  with  nose  outstretched  and  ears  erect, 
held  back.  The  pups  whined. 

"Gee!"  murmured  Chet  He  touched  her.  Phil 
touched  her.  Her  jacket  was  hard  and  brittle,  and 
just  the  finger-tip  applied  to  her  thick  braids  loosened 
some  of  the  hair. 

At  the  same  instant,  something  more  startling  oc- 
curred, for  she  moved! 

They  both  sprang  back  in  alarm.  Yes,  she  moved ; 
but  she  moved,  chair  and  all,  revolving  slowly  and 
smoothly  about  as  upon  a  concealed  pivot.  Just  a 
touch  of  the  hand  had  set  her  swinging,  until  she  had 
faced  three-quarters  around. 

"Huh!  Great  stunt!"  uttered  Chet,  venturing  to 
approach  and  experiment  again. 

Silently  and  smoothly  she  revolved.  They  gazed, 
fascinated  anew. 

"The  bowl's  full  of  pebbles,"  said  Phil.  "Look; 
what  are  they?" 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  CAVE      163 

Chet  picked  one  of  the  pebbles  out. 

"Turquoise,  in  the  rough!  Yes,  sir;  all  turquoise. 
Like  your  matrix.  See?" 

"And  that's  a  turquoise  necklace,  then.      Jiminy!" 

They  spoke  low,  for  they  had  a  feeling  that  they 
must  not  awaken  her.  Chet  ventured  to  lift  a  loop  of 
the  necklace.  The  turquoise,  smooth  and  polished 
and  blue,  were  strung  on  flexible  wire  that  might  be 
gold.  Phil  also  gently  fingered  them. 

"Shall  we  take  'em;  and  those  in  the  bowl,  too?" 
queried  Chet.  "They're  worth  money." 

"Shall  we?"  debated  Phil.  "Wonder  whose  they 
are?" 

"Ours,  aren't  they?"  answered  Chet.  "Nobody'll 
claim  'em.  They  must  have  been  here  a  hundred 
years  or  more." 

"Expect  they  were  left  for  a  purpose,  though.  And 
it's — it's  almost  like  robbing  a  grave." 

"Aw — "  stammered  Chet.  "They  aren't  any- 
body's— and  we've  found  'em — " 

"Sh!"  interrupted  Phil.  "Listen!  People  talk- 
ing!" 

They  hastily  let  the  necklace  drop  into  place,  and 
restored  the  rough  turquoise  to  the  painted  bowl. 
Voices  were  plain.  They  filled  the  chamber.  They 
appeared  to  enter  from  all  sides. 

"If  they  don't  hurry  they'll  not  find  us  first.  It 
must  be  nearly  night,  again."  That  was  Cherry. 
"When  it  comes  night  here  we'll  have  to  go  back 
to  the  other  part  of  the  world  where  it'll  be 
daylight." 


1 64  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"The  duration  of  time  is  very  deceptive,  to  persons 
as  enclosed  as  we  are."  That  was  the  Professor. 

"Maybe  they're  lost,  themselves,"  proffered  Molly. 
"This  certainly  is  an  exceedingly  romantic  situation." 

Then— 

"Hyar's  a  chile  as  don't  like  burrowin'  'round  bea- 
ver style.  He  air  no  ground  hawg.  He  air  a  moun- 
tain man,  wagh,  who  travels  atop  the  ground." 

"Grizzly  Dan !  There's  old  Dan !"  exclaimed,  with 
a  single  astonished  shout,  Chet  and  Phil. 

Another  voice  chimed  in. 

"Well,  now,  'tis  an  'asy  way  o'  gettin'  into  the 
earth,  followin'  other  people's  holes.  Sure,  somebody 
did  a  heap  o'  tunnelin',  an'  they  were  kind  enough  to 
leave  their  lights  burnin'.  Mebbe  we'll  shtrike  a  bo- 
nanza." 

"Flapjack  Jim;  Hurrah!  There's  old  Jim!"  cried 
the  excited  listeners. 

Bonita,  much  bewildered,  trotted  from  center  to 
outskirts,  and  back  to  center  again,  her  head  cocked 
to  one  side.  A  third  set  of  voices  entered. 

"Now  we've  got  'em  we'll  keep  'em.  If  they  don't 
come  to  terms  we'll  cover  the  mouth  and  go  on  up  to 
the  mine." 

"Oh,  they'll  come  to  terms,  quick  enough.  Wait 
till  they  begin  to  starve." 

"There's  the  two  kids  to  watch  out  for." 

"They  don't  amount  to  much.  We'll  fix  them. 
The  old  fellow  and  that  peg-leg  prospector  are  the 
ones  we  want,  and  them  we've  got." 

Chet  looked  at  Phil;  Phil  looked  at  Chet.  Their 
eyes  widened. 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  CAVE      165 

"The  Black  Man  gang/'  whispered  Phil. 

Chet  nodded. 

"The  three  hostiles,  sure,"  he  agreed. 

"Wonder  where  they  all  are?" 

"They  aren't  together.  They  must  be  in  different 
tunnels.  We'll  have  to  locate  'em  by  those  holes  that 
open  into  this  one.  Come  on." 

Chet  stepped  nimbly  aside. 

"Listen,"  he  bade,  speaking  low. 

Standing  together,  they  listened.  Not  a  sound  was 
heard.  The  silence  again  reigned. 

"They've  quit!"  accused  Chet,  disgusted. 

"Wait,"  ordered  Phil,  a  sudden  thought  striking 
him;  and  he  quickly  returned  to  the  center,  where  in 
her  revolving  stone  chair  sat  like  an  image  the  girl  of 
the  turquoise. 

Instantly  he  was  again  in  the  midst  of  voices. 

"If  we  ate  another  whole  bacon  sandwich,  I  won- 
der whether  it  would  be  breakfast  or  supper,"  was 
saying  Cherry. 

Her  voice  was  drowned,  momentarily,  by  the  voice 
of  Grizzly  Dan,  complaining : 

"If  ever  I  get  out  o'  hyar  an'  anything's  happened 
wrong  on  outside,  ha'r  '11  be  raised,  I  tell  'ee.  I  think 
a  heap  o'  those  thar  two  boy  compafieros  o'  mine,  an' 
of  my  old  hos  an'  mule,  too.  Wagh!  We  ought  to 
be  snug  in  camp,  with  pot  a-bilin';  that's  whar  we 
ought  to  be." 

"Faith!  In  we  came,  an'  sure  it's  a  beautiful  tun- 
nel— or  set  o'  tunnels,"  answered  Flapjack  Jim.  "But 
what  are  we  to  do  with  jist  a  bit  of  a  candle?" 

The  voice  of  the  Black  Man  intercepted. 


166  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"We've  got  their  hosses  and  baggage,  anyhow. 
That'll  make  'em  come  to  terms,  you  bet." 

"Except  the  one  critter  that  went  in  with  'em." 

"Well,  they  can  eat  it,"  chuckled  a  third  voice. 

Here  to  Phil's  eager  ears  floated  a  familiar,  re- 
sonant: "Hee-haw!"  followed  by  Flapjack  Jim's 
pleading  tones : 

"Arrah,  now,  Brownie;  can't  you  lade  us  out?  Be 
a  darlin'." 

"Aw,  Brownie's  in  there,  too!"  called  Phil,  guard- 
edly, to  Chet.  "What  do  you  think  of  that!" 

"Why?     Do  you  hear 'em?" 

"Yes.     All  of  them.     Don't  you?" 

"Naw.     Not  a  word." 

"Everything  centers  here,  then.  We'll  have  to 
listen  at  the  tunnels.  That's  the  only  way." 

"Put  your  ear  against  the  walls.  You  know,"  re- 
minded Chet. 

The  tunnel  openings  were  nine ;  each  flanked  by  one 
curious  half-round  short  pillar,  like  a  mummied  sen- 
tinel, set  into  the  edge  and  tapering  away,  above.  At 
the  first  opening  tried,  the  boys  could  hear  nothing. 

"This  must  be  the  hole  we  came  in  by,"  reasoned 
Phil.  "We'd  know,  if  we  hadn't  gone  and  turned 
that  girl  around  so." 

But  at  the  second  hole,  also,  they  could  hear  noth- 
ing. That  complicated  matters.  The  third  seemed 
to  be  the  tunnel  of  the  Professor's  party;  their  voices 
sounded  clearly,  mingled  not  with  any  others. 

"Hello,  Cherry,"  greeted  Chet,  guardedly,  into  it. 
"Can  you  hear  me?" 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  CAVE      167 

"Yes.  Aren't  you  coming?  We're  tired  waiting. 
Those  other  boys  will  beat  you." 

"We're  mixed  up.     Are  you  all  right?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  we  are  or  not.  We're  just 
sitting.  Do  hurry.  Is  Phil  there?" 

"Uh-huh.     Aren't  you,  Phil?" 

"I  shore  am,"  confirmed  Phil,  broadly. 

"Have  you  reached  daylight  land,  yet?" 

"Well,  it's  light,  sort  of,"  granted  Chet.  "We're 
in  an  awful  funny  place,  too." 

"We  aren't,"  retorted  Cherry.  "It  isn't  funny  at 
all — when  you  have  only  one  bacon  sandwich  for 
three  people." 

"It's  getting  so  it  isn't  even  romantic  any  more," 
chimed  in  Molly.  "And  the  Professor's  asleep." 

"Are  you  coming,  or  not?"  demanded  Cherry. 
"We're  saving  the  sandwich  until  we  know  whether 
we  can  eat  it  all  up,  or  take  a  bite  three  times  a  day 
instead  of  meals." 

"Listen,"  instructed  Chet.  "There  are  some  other 
people  in  around  here, — Grizzly  Dan  and  Flapjack 
Jim,  and  the  Black  Man  and  two  partners.  Dan  and 
Jim  are  lost,  and  the  Black  Man  gang  have  got  'em 
holed  up.  We  can  hear  all  of  you,  right  where  we  are 
in  a  regular  room  in  the  middle.  We've  got  to  ar- 
range some  way  to  find  you  and  find  Dan  and  Jim 
too." 

"Goodness  gracious !"  exclaimed  Cherry.  "I  should 
say  you  had.  And  is  that  horrid  traitor  Black  Man 
lost?" 

"No.     He's  on  the  outside,  waiting." 


1 68  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Then  we'll  let  him  wait,"  declared  Cherry, 
promptly.  "Now,  what  are  going  to  do  with  all  of 
us?" 

"You  and  Dan  and  Jim  are  in  separate  tunnels — " 

"Three  tunnels?"  interrupted  Cherry,  critically. 

"No;  two.  You're  in  one  and  they're  in  another. 
But  a  lot  of  tunnels  open  into  the  room  and  we're  lis- 
tening at  each  so  as  to  label  which  is  which." 

"You  can  label  this  the  Lone  Sandwich  Tunnel," 
suggested  Cherry. 

Phil  laughed;  but  Chet  continued  doggedly. 

"I'll  leave  Phil  here  to  talk  with  you,  and  I'll  try 
the  other  holes  and  catch  Dan  and  Jim,  if  I  can.  Then 
we'll  scheme  what  to  do.  I  guess  you'd  all  better 
come  in  here." 

"Very  well,"  remarked  Cherry,  calmly.  "But 
please  remember,  a  bacon  sandwich  hasn't  many  bites 
to  it,  so  hurry." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

BONITA    PROVES    HER   SMARTNESS 

CHET  trudged  away,  on  exploratory  circuit  of  the 
tunnel  openings. 

"Is  that  you,  Phil?"  came  Cherry's  voice  to  Phil, 
as  he  stood  leaning  against  the  curious  half-round  col- 
umn that  like  a  gate-post  formed  one  edge  of  the  tun- 
nel mouth. 

"Yes.     'I'm  waiting,  right  here." 

"That's  comfortable,"  commented  Cherry.  "We 
can't  see  you,  but  now  we  can  feel  you're  there.  I 
wonder  how  far  away  you  are?" 

"Kin  savvy,"  answered  Phil. 

"How  romantic,"  he  heard  Molly  murmur  drow- 
sily. 

"I  wish  you'd  talk  English  to  me,"  protested 
Cherry,  aggrieved.  "Papa's  asleep  and  Molly's  'most 
asleep,  and  if  you're  going  to  talk  cowboy  Mexican,  I 
might  as  well  go  to  sleep  myself.  Tell  me,  how'll 
you  and  Chet  get  us  out?" 

"One  of  us  can  come  in  to  you,  or  you  can  follow 
our  voices,  and  we  can  meet  you." 

"Br-r-r-r!"  shuddered  Cherry.  "It's  all  dark  be- 
yond us,  and  behind  us,  too.  We  sha'n't  stir  from 
this  spot  without  a  guide  who  knows  every  turn. 
When  you're  lost,  the  way  to  be  found  is  to  sit  still 

169 


1 70  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

and  make  signals  and  wait.  And  that's  what  we're 
doing." 

"I'll  come  in  a  way,"  proposed  Phil.  "Just  f°r 
fun.  And  maybe  you  aren't  as  far  as  we  think. 
Keep  talking,  please." 

He  entered.  Momentarily  he  missed  Cherry's 
voice,  but  almost  at  once  he  caught  it  again,  even 
though  his  ear  was  not  against  the  wall! 

"Can  you  hear  me?"  he  queried  anxiously. 

"Of  course  I  can,"  replied  Cherry. 

"Well,  keep  talking,  then." 

"What  can  I  talk  about?  It's  very  spooky,  talking 
to  somebody's  voice,"  objected  Cherry. 

"I  know!"  exclaimed  Phil,  suddenly  electrified. 
"Call  Bonita !"  For  Bonita  was  at  his  heels,  her  ears 
up  and  her  head  cocked  to  one  side,  as  she  listened  to 
that  mysterious  voice. 

"Bonita!  Here,  Bonita!  Here,  Bonita!"  called 
Cherry. 

Bonita  whined. 

"Go  on !"  urged  Phil.  "Go  find  her.  Go  on.  Go, 
Bonita,"  and  amidst  the  dimness  he  motioned  her  for- 
ward. "Keep  calling,"  he  besought,  to  Cherry. 

With  another  impatient  little  whine  Bonita  dashed 
away,  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  beyond,  of 
the  tunnel's  depths. 

"She's  coming,"  Phil  informed,  to  Cherry.  "She 
can  see  in  the  dark  better  than  we  can,  and  if  she 
hears  you  she'll  find  you,  I  bet  a  cookie.  Keep  call- 
ing."  " 

Cherry  industriously  called  Bonita.      Phil  waited 


BONITA  PROVES  HER  SMARTNESS     171 

a  moment;  Bonita  came  not  back,  and  with  hopes 
high  he  retired  to  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  to  com- 
municate the  news  to  Chet. 

Chet  was  across  the  vaulted  chamber,  evidently 
talking  into  one  of  the  openings  there. 

"I've  got  'em,"  he  said  briefly,  as  Phil  hastily  ap- 
proached. "They're  coming." 

"I've  sent  Bonita  in  to  Cherry,"  announced  Phil. 

"Bueno,"  approved  Chet. 

Phil  hurried  back.  He  gained  the  mouth  of  the 
tunnel  just  in  time  to  hear  Cherry's  delighted  words : 
"Bonita!  Why,  Bonita!  Here  you  are.  Smart  dog- 
gie!" Then  Molly  and  the  Professor  must  have 
wakened,  for  Cherry  soothed :  "'It's  Bonita,  Phil's 
dog.  She's  going  to  take  us  to  them,  aren't  you,  Bon- 
ita? And  how  are  the  puppies?" 

"Hello,"  interrupted  Phil.  "Can  you  hear  me? 
Tie  your  handkerchiefs  to  her  collar  and  she'll  lead 
you.  I'll  call  her.  Tell  me  when  you're  ready. 
Don't  let  her  get  away." 

"All  right,"  answered  Cherry. 

"It's  as  romantic  as  being  rescued  by  St.  Bernards 
in  the  Alps,"  asserted  Molly. 

"The  intelligence  of  the  collie  or  sheep  dog  is  very 
highly  developed,"  uttered  the  Professor,  in  satisfied 
tone.  "Now  I  must  not  omit  to  take  with  us  some 
specimens  of  this  luminescence,  in  order  to  test  it  for 
radioactivity." 

"There,  Bonita,"  spoke  Cherry,  also  as  if  satisfied. 
"Bring  us  to  Phil  and  Chet.  Call  her,  Phil." 

"I  am  calling,"  asserted  Phil. 


172  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Aren't  you  calling?  I  can't  hear  you.  Wait  a 
minute,  but  don't  stop,  if  you  are  calling." 

There  was  a  pause  in  operations  at  the  other  end. 
Phil  continued  to  call:  "Here,  Bonita!  Here,  Bon- 
ita!"  and  to  whistle;  and  then  he  heard  Cherry's 
triumphant  hail: 

"Now  she  heard  you!  I  pressed  her  ear  against 
the  wall.  She's  coming.  So  are  we.  Don't  let  go 
of  hands,  Papa  and  Molly." 

Phil  called;  but  if  Bonita's  ear  must  be  pressed  to 
the  wall,  every  little  while — !  Of  course  that  would 
not  be  necessary,  though,  for  she  would  back-track, 
he  was  certain.  Presently  Cherry  announced: 

"We  can  hear  you,  in  spots,  without  listening 
against  the  wall.  It's  awful  dark,  but  Bonita  knows 
just  what  to  do.  I'm  first,  holding  to  the  handker- 
chief rope,  and  Molly's  next,  holding  to  my  hand,  and 
Papa's  last,  holding  to  Molly's  hand.  So  here  we 


come." 


"That's  good,"  encouraged  Phil.  "I'll  keep  call- 
ing." 

So  he  did,  while  just  within  the  tunnel  he  peered 
and  listened  eagerly,  for  what  the  depths  were  about 
to  deliver.  First  he  heard  a  rapid  shuffle;  they  were 
coming!  Hurrah!  Then  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
could  see  them — shadowy  forms  far  back  in  the 
dusky  recesses.  But  he  had  to  wait  some  time,  be- 
fore, on  a  sudden,  out  from  the  blackness  Cherry's 
voice  sounded  briskly:  "There!  I  see  him!  I  see 
Phil.  Hello,  Phil,"  to  which  he  responded  instantly, 
"Hello!"  After  a  moment's  delay  they  appeared — 


BONITA  PROVES  HER  SMARTNESS     173 

first  Bonita,  tongue  dangling  as  she  valiantly  tugged 
away,  then  Cherry,  in  smart  khaki  short  skirt  and 
trim  blue  waist,  and  red  tie  and  cowboy  hat,  her 
cheeks  scarlet  and  her  black  eyes  dancing  as  she  clung 
fast  to  the  handkerchief  rope;  then,  holding  to  her 
hand,  Molly,  similarly  dressed,  her  blue  eyes  wide  in 
her  flushed  oval  face;  and  holding  to  her  hand  the 
Professor,  in  the  school-of -mines  costume  of  cordu- 
roys and  flannel,  a  bulging  canvas  bag  like  a  game- 
sack  slung  at  his  side.  That,  of  course,  was  full  of 
rocks  and  other  specimens. 

"Bueno,"  greeted  Phil,  shaking  hands  hard  with 
all  of  them,  and  also  patting  the  proud  Bonita. 

"Did  you  find  us  or  did  we  find  you?"  demanded 
Cherry,  immediately.  "But  you  beat  those  school-of- 
mines  boys,  anyway." 

"So  romantic,"  declared  Molly. 

"Remarkable,"  imparted  the  Professor,  blinking  as 
he  gazed  about  him.  "A  remarkable  chamber.  Evi- 
dently artificial." 

At  this  instant  there  was  a  series  of  exclamatory 
greetings  across  the  vault,  and  from  one  of  the  op- 
posite tunnels  emerged,  welcomed  by  Chet,  first  Flap- 
jack Jim,  carrying  his  battered  pick;  next  Brownie 
his  burro,  packed  with  Jim's  prospector  outfit;  and 
next  Grizzly  Dan,  head  thrust  inquiringly  forward, 
his  long  rifle  at  a  trail.  Brownie  at  once  halted,  and 
opening  wide  her  homely  mouth  emitted  her  custom- 
ary "Hee-haw!"  as  if  celebrating. 

"B5  gorry,"  quoth  Flapjack  Jim,  blinking  rapidly 
with  his  little  eyes  set  in  his  wrinkled-apple  face,  as 


174  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

he  stared  about,  "where  might  we  be  at  now,  I  won- 
der?" 

"Wagh!"  exclaimed  old  Dan,  gutturally.  "Who's 
that  thar  in  the  middle?" 

"Hello,"  called  Cherry,  excited,  across  to  them. 
"Hello,  Mr.  Dan."  And  then  she,  too,  saw  the  silent 
figure  in  the  stone  chair.  "Oh,  goodness!"  she  ut- 
tered. "We've  got  company." 

"It  isn't  alive,"  explained  Phil,  in  haste  to  quiet 
any  alarm.  "It's  an  Indian  girl,  is  all.  She's  been 
left  here,  with  a  lap  full  of  turquoise,  and  the  air  or 
something  has  preserved  her." 

"A  preserved  Indian  girl — mercy!"  shuddered 
Cherry.  "Can  we  look  at  her?" 

"Oh,  she's  not  bad  to  look  at.  She's  all  right. 
She's  kind  of  pretty,  Chet  and  I  think." 

"That's  worthy  of  investigation,"  declared  the 
Professor,  much  interested  and  straightway  making 
for  the  chair. 

Cherry  and  Molly  sidled  in  the  one  direction,  to  ob- 
tain a  near  view  gradually;  and  Grizzly  Dan  and 
Flapjack  Jim,  to  whom  Chet  likewise  had  been  ex- 
plaining, sidled,  as  cautiously,  from  another. 

"Sure,  an'  she's  long  dead  an'  gone,"  said  Flapjack 
Jim,  crossing  himself  piously.  "May  the  saints  rist 
her  sowl,  the  purty  young  thing." 

"Oh,  she  is  pretty,  isn't  she!"  exclaimed  Cherry 
and  Molly  together.  And  Molly  added,  greatly 
amazed,  "Positively  the  most  romantic  thing  I  ever 
heard  of!" 

Grizzly   Dan,   much  impressed,   only  muttered  to 


BONITA  PROVES  HER  SMARTNESS     175 

himself.  They  stood,  gazing,  with  Chet  and  Phil  do- 
ing the  honors  of  the  exhibition. 

"Evidently  an  aborigine,  but  by  complexion  one 
from  the  south,  I  judge,"  announced  the  Professor, 
busily.  "No  doubt  from  the  Pueblo  country." 

"An'  would  ye  look  at  the  foine  necklace!"  ejac- 
ulated Flapjack  Jim.  "An'  what  might  be  in  the 
bowl,  I  ask?" 

"Those  are  turquoise,  too,"  asserted  Phil.  "Bowl's 
plumb  full  of  them." 

"Big  medicine,"  muttered  Grizzly  Dan.  "Wouldn't 
tech  her,  if  I  war  you.  Wagh !  This  chile  wants  to 
get  out  o'  hyar,  pronto.  Cave  air  a  spirit  cave." 

"Yes,  turquoise,  assuredly,"  affirmed  the  Professor, 
examining  fearlessly.  "And  the  bowl  is  evidently  an 
ancient  Pueblo  bowl,  with  sacrificial  pattern.  Re- 
markable!" 

"How  long  do  you  think  she's  been  here,  Profes- 
sor?" queried  Phil.  "A  hundred  years?" 

"Oh,  yes;  very  likely.  Perhaps  more.  After  the 
flesh  had  become  thoroughly  preserved,  time  would  be 
indefinite.  Her  complexion  and  features  would  indi- 
cate Aztec  origin;  and  the  woven  skirt  and  the  bowl 
would  indicate  a  southern  source,  also.  I  should  say 
that  these  were  old  Aztec  workings;  or  if  early  Span- 
ish, then  the  aborigines  may  have  driven  the  Spanish 
out,  and  left  this  young  girl  here  as  a  guardian.  Er — 
even  as  a  sacrifice." 

"Gracious!"  exclaimed  Cherry  and  Molly.  "Don't 
say  any  more,  please." 

"Wagh  1    Mebbe  we'd  better  make  a  little  medicine, 


176  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

an'  get  out,  ourselves,"  proposed  Grizzly  Dan.  "This 
air  no  place  for  humans;  an'  pot  air  bilin',  some- 
whars." 

So  saying,  he  lighted  his  short  black  pipe,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  make  ceremonial  motions  as  he  puffed. 

"We  might  as  well  take  those  turquoise,  then,"  as- 
serted Chet,  boldly.  "They're  valuable.  That  neck- 
lace is  strung  on  gold  wire." 

"I  see,"  murmured  the  Professor,  inspecting. 

"Cherry  and  Molly  can  have  it,"  proffered  Phil, 
quickly.  "It'll  be  a  relic,  anyhow." 

"Oh,  we  wouldn't  touch  it !"  cried  the  girls,  shrink- 
ing back.  "Not  for  worlds." 

"Leave  it  where  it  is,"  pleaded  Cherry.  "It  isn't 
ours;  it's  hers.  The  poor  thing,  with  her  beautiful 
necklace!  We've  no  right  to  it.  Why,  I'd  feel  like 
a  robber!" 

"The  necklace  would  be  terribly  romantic,"  fal- 
tered Molly,  breathing  quickly.  "But  I'd  feel  the 
same  way  as  Gwen.  Please  don't  disturb  her." 

"Faith,  no,"  agreed  Flapjack  Jim,  again  crossing 
himself.  "  'Twould  be  like  deshpoilin'  a  grave. 
Though,"  he  added,  "there  be  the  bowl  in  her  lap. 
Some  o'  yez  might  take  that,  with  the  rough  shtones 
in  it." 

"I  don't  want  it,"  claimed  Phil,  at  once. 

"Don't  believe  I  do,  either,"  claimed  Chet,  slowly — 
his  desire  hampered  by  a  sense  of  reverence,  now 
welling  to  the  surface.  "Guess  we'd  better  leave  'em 
all." 

"The  bowl  would  be  interesting,  as  an  example  of 


BONITA  PROVES  HER  SMARTNESS     177 

early  pottery,"  suggested  the  Professor.  "In  fact,  the 
whole  figure — But,"  he  added,  "I  am  perfectly  will- 
ing to  leave  it  undisturbed,  if  that  is  the  wish  of  the 
company." 

"If  we  meddle  with  that  thar  medicine,  the  whole 
roof'll  fall  in  on  us,"  declared  Grizzly  Dan,  much  in 
earnest.  "This  chile  thinks  we'd  better  all  clean  out, 
quick  as  ever  we  can.  Pot's  a-waitin'  outside,  an' 
hyar's  a  coon  as  air  nigh  gone  beaver,  he  air  so  empty 
in  the  meat-bag." 

"Well,"  assented  the  Professor,  placidly,  "the  boys 
can  lead  us  through  the  channel  whereby  they  entered ; 
or,  all  together,  we  can  safely  essay  one  of  the  other 
passages." 

"Look  out,  Professor!"  cried  Chet,  in  sudden 
alarm.  "That's  a  revolving  chair.  She  turns  round 
and  round  on  you." 

"So  I  observe,"  commented  the  Professor,  promptly 
setting  the  chair  in  motion.  "Remarkable.  The  slab 
of  stone  on  which  it  rests  is  pivoted.  The  arrange- 
ment is  not  unknown  to  the  ancients  and  has  been  em- 
ployed by  them  in  similar  circumstances  before." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Cherry  and  Molly,  as  the  chair 
and  its  demure  figure  slowly  spun. 

"Stop  her!"  vainly  protested  Chet.  And  he  added, 
dismayed:  "Now  we  don't  know  which  any  of  the 
holes  are.  Do  you,  Phil?" 

"Jiminy!"  faltered  Phil,  scanning  the  circum- 
ference of  the  vaulted  chamber.  "N-no." 


CHAPTER   XV 

IN  THE  MOUSETRAP 

"WELL/'  said  Cherry,  brightly,  "there  are  plenty 
of  holes." 

So  there  were,  but  they  seemed  exactly  alike. 

"Faith,"  remarked  Flapjack  Jim,  "  'tis  a  regular 
mousetrap,  inside  out.  An'  didn't  any  o'  yez  mark 
where  yez  came  in?" 

"Chet  and  I  came  in  from  the  left  side  of  the  girl, 
quartering.  But  we  whirled  her,  before  we  thought. 
The  Professor's  hole  was  right  behind  her,  until  she 
was  whirled  again,"  explained  Phil.  "Pshaw!  Now 
we've  mixed  things  up." 

"An'  can't  yez  remember  your  holes,  at  all?" 
queried  Flapjack  Jim,  rather  accusingly. 

"No.     Do  you  remember  yours?" 

Flapjack  Jim  looked  about  him,  calculating;  then 
he  scratched  his  head. 

"B'  gorry,  an'  I  don't  believe  I  do,"  he  confessed 
sheepishly. 

"Wagh,  it  air  wuss'n  a  beaver  lodge,"  grumbled 
Grizzly  Dan,  glaring  at  the  numerous  exits. 

"A  very  curious  arrangement  of  galleries,  evidently 
planned  for  a  purpose,"  spoke  the  Professor.  "I 
suppose  that  we  must  try  each  in  turn.  Doubtless  they 
all  lead  to  the  outer  air,  but  the  question  would  be, 

178 


IN  THE  MOUSETRAP  179 

which  leads  the  most  directly.  'I  would  scarcely 
recommend  ours,  because  it  is  so  circuitous  that  it  is 
very  confusing." 

"Ours  war  a  blind  trail,  crookeder'n  a  rabbit  track 
in  the  brush,"  quoth  Grizzly  Dan.  "An'  it  war  power- 
ful dark,  'most  the  time." 

"Praise  be,  we  had  a  bit  of  a  candle,"  added  Flap- 
jack Jim;  "but  no  grand  lighted  ampy-the-ay-ter  sich 
as  this  wan." 

"Our  tunnel  is  easy,  all  right,"  announced  Chet. 
"If  we  only  can  find  it.  We  ought  to  have  branded 
it,  on  the  spot.  Aw,  we  didn't  have  sense,"  he  de- 
plored. "And  we  oughtn't  to  have  whirled  that  figure 


so." 


"The  figure  worked  precisely  as  the  builders  in- 
tended it  should,"  mused  the  Professor,  with  a  grati- 
fied chuckle  at  the  completeness  of  the  artifice.  "Very 
clever.  Ahem !  Shall  we  get  to  work  on  our  experi- 
mental search?" 

"There's  one  hole  we'd  better  not  try,"  alleged  Phil. 
"Stand  here  in  the  middle,  and  keep  quiet,  and  listen." 

So  they  did.  Presently  a  voice  was  speaking,  but 
muffled.  "Reckon  that'll  hold  'em  for  a  while.  They 
can't  get  out  without  wakin'  us  if  we're  asleep." 

Another  voice  spoke,  responding,  "Wonder  what 
time  it  is  ?" 

"A  good  piece  after  midnight,  by  the  stars." 

And  a  third  voice  joined  with:  "Go  to  sleep,  you 
fellows.  I'll  night-herd  over  this  gopher  hole.  If 
that  old  Wild  West  show  or  the  peg-leg  sticks  his 
head  out,  I'll  drop  a  rock  on  it.  See?" 


i8o  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

And  they  laughed. 

Grizzly  Dan,  keen  of  ear  and  memory,  fairly  bris- 
tled. "Wagh !"  he  grunted,  vehemently.  "The  three 
hostiles!"  And  grasping  his  long  rifle  he  peered 
around,  expectantly  eying  every  hole. 

"Where  are  they?  Is  that  the  Black  Man  crowd?" 
exclaimed  Cherry  and  Molly,  breathlessly. 

"Yes;  but  they  aren't  near,"  answered  Phil. 
"They're  watching  at  the  place  where  Dan  and  Jim 
came  in." 

"They  air,  air  they!"  commented  Grizzly  Dan,  ir- 
ritated. "I  tell  'ee,  they'd  better  watch  their  ha'r, 
too,  then.  How'd  they  strike  our  trail,  now,  I'd  like 
to  know." 

"Guess  they  saw  you  come  in.  We've  been  hear- 
ing them,  before." 

"Here's  the  hole  for  their  voices,"  informed  Chet, 
who  from  the  center  had  scurried  to  the  outskirts. 
"You  can  hear  'em  here  and  in  the  middle,  but  you 
can't  hear  'em  anywhere  else.  I'll  mark  this,  you  bet," 
and  he  scored  the  half-pillar  with  his  knife.  "  'Tisn't 
the  same  hole  Dan  and  Jim  came  out  of,  though.  The 
holes  were  different." 

"Same  entrance,  though,  on  the  outside,"  asserted 
Phil.  "And  they've  got  that  closed  up  now,  accord- 
ing to  the  way  they  talked." 

"Sure,  an'  they  don't  know  what  the  inside  be  like, 
then,"  cackled  the  little  one-legged  man.  "They've 
got  the  wan  hole,  but  we've  got  more  than  we  know 
what  to  do  with." 

"Yes;  but  they've  got  the  horses  and  camp  stuff, 


IN  THE  MOUSETRAP  181 

too/'  reported  Phil.  "Oh !"  and  a  thought  struck  him. 
"You  didn't  see  anything  of  Chet's  horse,  and  mine, 
did  you?  They  stampeded  on  us." 

"We  did  that.  Didn't  they  come  throttin'  nicely 
into  camp  this  very  afternoon — or  some  afternoon 
recently,  whiniver  it  was,  depindin'  on  what  time 
we've  shpent  since  under  the  ground !"  answered  Jim. 
"An'  didn't  we  fear  lest  yez  both  be  lost  or  shtolen, 
an'  didn't  we  follow  some  wan  or  other  into  these  ould 
diggin's,  for  the  purpose  o'  findin'  out?  By  the  sign, 
they  must  have  been  the  Professor  here  an'  the  two 
gyurls." 

"They  have  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye,  too,  then!" 
blurted  Chet.  "What  do  yuh  think  o'  that!" 

"It  seems  to  me,"  suggested  the  Professor,  mildly, 
as  he  gazed  about,  as  if  on  a  sight-seeing  trip,  "that 
we  can  do  no  better  than  to  wait  here  until  toward 
daylight.  It  is  an  interesting  place  and  we  are  com- 
fortable and — er,  have  a  sandwich  and  a  rabbit;  and 
it  might  be  embarrassing  to  find  exit  in  the  darkness, 
particularly  when  those  unfriendly  men  are  waiting  at 
one  of  the  portals." 

"Thar !  That's  sense,"  approved  old  Dan,  who  had 
been  growling  querulously  over  the  success  of  the 
three  hostiles.  "Fill  meat-bags,  say  I;  fill  'em  when 
you  can,  an'  this  air  proper  time.  Wagh!  I  hain't 
et  since  yisterday,  'cept  for  what  few  hunks  o'  jerked 
stuff  I've  been  chawing,  occasional,  during  night." 

"But  it  isn't  night!"  corrected  Cherry.  "I  don't 
know  what  makes  you  all  say  it's  night,  when  night  is 
past.  We  went  through  to  day,  on  the  other  side  of 


1 82  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

the  world,  and  either  we've  come  back  to  day  on  this 
side  or  else  it's  the  same  other  side  and  the  same  day. 
Anyway,  can't  you  see  how  light  things  are,  from  the 
sun  shining  through  the  ground?" 

"As  I've  tried  to  impress  upon  the  girls,"  informed 
the  Professor,  addressing  the  rest  of  the  company, 
even  to  the  pups  (who  were  asleep  here  and  there), 
"this  illumination  is  not  the  light  of  day,  but  rather 
is  an  autoluminescence  produced  by  some  natural 
process  going  on  among  the  material  composing  the 
walls  and  roof  of  these  excavations.  Such  a  phe- 
nomenon is  related  to  triboluminescence,  or  light  pro- 
duced by  rubbing;  thermoluminescence,  or  light  pro- 
duced by  warmth;  crystalloluminescence,  or  light 
produced  by  crystallization;  er — and  so  forth." 

"He  means  shine,  is  all,"  exclaimed  Cherry,  con- 
fidentially. 

"Wagh!"  gasped  Grizzly  Dan,  standing  with  hairy 
mouth  agape  while  he  leaned  upon  his  long  rifle. 

"Sure,  an'  isn't  he  a  grand  professor,  with  all  those 
words,  any  wan  o'  which  is  big  enough  for  a  priest !" 
ejaculated  Flapjack  Jim,  admiringly. 

Brownie  the  burro,  dozing  and  nodding,  sighed  as 
if  much  bored;  whereupon  the  Professor  hastened  to 
conclude. 

"Or,  in  simple  language,  we  are  witnessing  an  ex- 
ample of  extensive  radioactivity." 

"Well,  what's  that?"  blurted  Chet. 

"The  property  of  throwing  off  waves  of  energy, 
known  or  unknown — and  in  this  present  case  made 
apparent  as  luminosity,  or — er,  I  would  say,  light." 


IN  THE  MOUSETRAP  183 

"Like  rotten  wood,  b'  jabers!"  proffered  Flapjack 
Jim. 

"Or  radium!"  exclaimed  Phil,  highly  excited. 
"Maybe  we're  in  a  cave  of  radium!" 

"The  luminescence  from  decaying  wood,  or  other 
inert  matter  in  such  a  state,  is  phosphorescence,  or  a 
luminosity  due  to  the  action  of  light,"  lectured  the 
Professor.  "Therefore  this  present  luminosity  is 
not  that  of  decay.  And  it  scarcely  is  caused  by  ra- 
dium—" 

"Hyar's  a  coon  who  don't  savvy  lummi-essences  or 
ary  other  kind  o'  essences  'cept  beaver  medicine,  which 
air  put  on  a  stick  to  make  beaver  come  to  trap," 
interrupted  Grizzly  Dan,  impatiently.  "So  he's 
goin'  to  eat.  Fust  eat,  then  talk — that  air  correct 
custom." 

"So  say  I,"  supported  Cherry.  "You  can  all  call 
it  supper,  but  Molly  and  I  shall  call  it  breakfast.  What 
have  we  got?" 

"You've  got  the  sandwich,"  reminded  Molly. 

"No,"  promptly  answered  Cherry.  "I  haven't.  I 
gave  it  to  Bonita,  while  we  were  coming  through  the 
tunnel,  so  as  to  encourage  her!" 

"Why!"  faltered  Molly,  much  astonished.  "Is  it 
gone  ?" 

"Here's  the  rabbit,"  said  Chet.  "And  Dan  has 
some  jerked  venison." 

"An'  Brownie  an'  I  have  a  morsel  o'  flour  an'  the 
other  makin's,  for  flapjacks  in  the  ould  skillet,"  quoth 
the  merry  little  one-legged  Irishman.  "All  we  lack 
be  the  fire  an'  the  wather." 


1 84  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Well,  this  sounds  like  quite  a  meal,"  declared  the 
Professor. 

"We'll  have  a  fire  going  in  a  jiffy,  if  the  tunnel 
timbering  isn't  too  damp  to  burn,"  asserted  Phil. 
"Ought  to  find  seepage  water  enough  for  the  flap- 
jack batter.  Can  roast  the  rabbit,  and  eat  the  jerked 
meat  as  it  is.  Or  roast  it  or  fry  it,  too." 

"An'  if  the  timberin'  be  too  damp  to  burn,  faith, 
then  what's  the  matter  with  usin'  the  leg  o'  me?" 
cackled  Jim.  "That's  dry,  an'  well  s'asoned." 

However,  the  timbering  was  cedar,  and  to  the  de- 
mand made  upon  it  by  the  searching  knives  of  Phil 
and  Chet  it  willingly  yielded  sound,  fairly  dry  chips. 
No  difficulty  was  met  in  finding  water.  Flapjack  Jim 
stumped  busily,  opening  Brownie's  compact  pack  and 
taking  therefrom  flour  and  baking  powder  and  salt 
and  bacon  grease  and  fry-pan. 

"This  be  the  advantage  of  always  travelin'  to- 
gether, Brownie  an'  I,"  he  volunteered.  "I  can't  carry 
the  flapjacks  an'  Brownie  can't  make  'em,  but  we  both 
do  ate  'em  an'  so  we  help  wan  another.  See?"  As 
he  proceeded  to  mix  the  material,  in  his  gold-pan,  he 
sang  his  "prospector"  song: 

"Burro  an'  pick,  burro  an'  pick, 
Thryin'  the  trail  o'  gettin'  rich  quick, 
Lavin*  your  home  an*  lavin'  your  wife — 
Ain't  it  a  tough  wan,  the  prospector's  life?" 

"Don't  you  use  milk?"  asked  Cherry,  interested, 
watching. 

"Only  on  Brownie's  birthday,"  answered  Flapjack 


IN  THE  MOUSETRAP  185 

Jim.  "Now  mebbe  you'd  like  to  hear  Brownie's 
song.  She'll  be  disapp'inted  if  ye  don't."  And  he 
sang  it: 

"I'm  the  faithful  animile  of  a  most  peculiar  shtyle; 

I'm  supposed  to  be  a  sort  o'  goat  an'  bird; 
Where  there's  niver  trail  nor  track  do  I  tote  the  hivvy 

pack, 

An'  I  sing  the  swatest  carols  iver  heard: 
Hee-haw !" 

"Hee-haw!"  brayed  Brownie,  as  usual  affected  by 
her  alleged  plea. 

"Mercy!"  uttered  Cherry,  startled. 

"She  always  comes  in  shtrong  on  the  chorus,"  as- 
sured Flapjack  Jim,  briskly  stirring  the  batter. 

"How  romantic,"  murmured  Molly. 

Under  the  attentions  of  the  boys  and  Grizzly  Dan 
the  fire,  of  smokeless  cedar,  was  blazing  swiftly, 
spreading  a  pleasant  aroma  and  a  grateful  glow.  Now 
the  cavern  had  been  wakened  to  life — all  but  the 
silently  watching  figure  in  the  stone  chair;  yet  of  her 
nobody  was  afraid.  The  rabbit  had  been  cleaned,  the 
discarded  portions  had  been  carefully  divided  among 
the  pups  (Bonita  had  had  her  sandwich!),  and  the 
other  pieces  were  being  held,  upon  pointed  splinters, 
over  coals.  The  strips  of  jerked  venison  from  Griz- 
zly Dan's  little  supply  were  laid  out,  for  selection  by 
anybody  that  wanted  some,  and  covered  with  a  corner 
of  Flapjack  Jim's  tarpaulin — for  of  the  supper-break- 
fast preparations  Bonita  and  her  family  were  eager 
spectators.  Brownie  had  roused  to  the  music  of  the 
batter  spoon,  and  was  standing  with  her  nose  almost 


i86  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

upon  her  master's  shoulder.  Meanwhile  the  Professor 
slowly  circled  the  interior  of  the  vaulted  cavern,  peer- 
ing at  and  fingering  the  walls. 

"If  this  were  radium,"  he  announced,  "I  could  get 
enough  with  one  scrape  of  my  finger-nails  to  supply 
the  world  and  to  make  us  all  rich.  But  there  would 
not  be  much  left  of  the  fingers — and,  I  think,  by  this 
time  none  of  us  would  be  very  comfortable." 

But  Flapjack  Jim  had  the  center  of  the  stage. 
Having  mixed  his  batter,  he  fascinated  Cherry  and 
Molly  by  his  skill  in  turning  cakes.  Several  he  turned 
five  times;  and  one,  tossed  high,  he  declared  turned 
seven.  Even  the  Professor  paused  from  his  scientific 
circuiting,  to  remark  upon  the  feat. 

It  was  indeed  a  strange  and  striking  spectacle :  here 
in  the  ancient,  sepulchral  chamber  long  tenanted  by 
only  that  single  lifeless  figure,  a  group  of  travelers 
old  and  young,  the  four  dogs  and  a  burro,  about  a 
ruddy  fire,  and  a  red-headed,  one-legged  little  Irish- 
man, prospector  clad,  tossing  flapjacks. 

The  Professor  was  called  in  from  his  wanderings, 
and  the  meal  was  served  while  Brownie  (with  ears 
flat  as  menace  to  the  curious  dogs)  licked  the  batter 
pan. 

Each  of  the  three  divisions  of  the  company  had  to 
relate  its  adventures.  As  for  Dan  and  Jim,  alarmed 
by  the  appearance  in  their  territory  of  riderless  Pepper 
and  Medicine  Eye,  they  had  set  out  to  scout  for  the 
two  boys.  Leaving  Dan's  spotted  pony  outside,  they 
had  entered  the  tunnel,  investigating  the  tracks  of  the 
Professor's  party.  The  tunnel  split  into  several 


IN  THE  MOUSETRAP  187 

passages,  aud  before  they  realized  it,  they  were  lost. 
Meanwhile  the  three  hostiles,  spying  upon  them,  must 
have  seized  the  camp  and  had  also  seized  the  mouth 
of  the  tunnel. 

The  Professor  and  Cherry  and  Molly  had  entered 
to  escape  the  storm;  they  had  wandered  farther  and 
farther  in,  until  by  darkness  and  twistings  they  too 
became  lost.  In  a  small  chamber  dimly  lighted  by 
the  mysterious  white  shine  that  Cherry  declared  was 
daylight  soaking  through  and  that  the  Professor  was 
much  less  successful  in  explaining,  they  rested,  to 
await  searching  squads. 

Phil  and  Chet  had  more  than  anybody  to  tell :  theirs 
was  those  other  early  workings,  with  the  abandoned 
tools;  the  king  elk;  the  wonder  forest;  and  the  land- 
slide. The  tale  drew  from  Grizzly  Dan  a  succession 
of  "Wagh's !"  and  from  Flapjack  Jim  many  a  hearty 
"Listen  to  that,  will  yez!"  "Well,  I  niver!"  and  so 
on.  But  the  Professor,  examining  closely,  pronounced 
the  piece  of  amber  to  be  an  inferior  variety  of  fossil 
resin  or  gum,  and  the  ruby  to  be  not  a  true  ruby  but 
a  clear  garnet.  Besides,  it  had  been  cracked  by  the 
heating. 

"Here,"  said  Chet,  impulsively,  offering  a  stone  to 
Cherry  and  one  to  Molly.  "Do  you  want  them  ?  I've 
lost  all  the  rest.  I'd  better  get  rid  of  these  or  I'll 
lose  them,  too.  Thar's  a  long  trail  ahead,  yet; 
wagh!" 

"No ;  you  keep  them,  Chet,"  bade  Cherry.  "Aren't 
they  valuable?" 

"I'd  lose  'em,"  insisted  Chet,  flushing.     "  'D  rather 


1 88  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

you  and  Molly'd  have  them,  anyway.  We've  got  a 
whole  mine  of  'em." 

"Yes,  they  have  some  value,  especially  in  such  a 
large  deposit  as  he  describes,"  affirmed  the  Professor. 
"The  small  ones  may  be  used  as  jewels  in  the  works 
of  watches,  and  those  of  a  quality  to  be  cut  as  car- 
buncles would  be  prized  as  ornaments.  The  carbuncle 
approaches  the  ruby.  It  is  supposed  to  shine  by  its 
own  light." 

"Like  these  walls!"  exclaimed  Cherry. 

"Yis;  an'  accordin'  to  news  o'  the  same,  'twas  by 
carbuncles  that  Noah  lighted  the  blissed  ark,"  chirped 
Flapjack  Jim. 

"Oh,  maybe  ours  will  show  us  the  way  out,  then," 
cried  Cherry.  "Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Chet.  Do 
they  shine  in  the  dark?" 

"Don't  reckon  so,"  stammered  Chet.  "But  you  can 
have  'em — you  and  Molly." 

"I'll  wear  mine.  It  will  always  be  romantic,"  de- 
clared Molly. 

"You  can  have  the  rest  of  these  specimens,  too," 
proffered  Phil.  "Maybe  you  can  make  them  into 
brooches  or  clasps  or  something.  We  can't  pack  'em 
'round.  Too  heavy  now.  Tear  our  pockets  out." 

"Sure,"  supported  Chet,  loyally.  "We've  forty 
acres  of  that  shiny  stuff,"  and  he  fairly  swelled  his 
chest. 

"Heap  talk  about  shine;  not  enough  about  gettiri' 
out  o'  hyar  an*  liftin'  the  ha'r  o'  those  thar  hostiles," 
grumbled  Grizzly  Dan.  "That's  the  only  talk  to  shine 
with  this  chile.  Wagh !" 


IN  THE  MOUSETRAP  189 

"Maybe  they've  been  listening  to  us,"  suggested 
Cherry,  scanning  the  holes  as  if  looking  for  faces. 

"Probably  not,"  answered  her  father.  "By  cunning 
arrangement  of  the  rounded  pillars  at  the  orifices  of 
these  tunnels  the  sounds  from  one  set  are  deflected 
into  the  other  set.  Very  likely  the  mouths  are  paired ; 
therefore  the  boys  heard  us,  first,  but  did  not  hear 
from  the  rest." 

"The  sounds  bounce  off  those  posts,  you  mean," 
hazarded  Chet,  bluntly. 

"Yes,  that's  what  he  means.  I  know.  But  he  said 
'deflected'  because  that's  more  scientific — just  like 
'luminosity'  for  shine,"  explained  Cherry,  with  a  little 
nod.  "They  don't  mean  any  more;  they  only  sound 
as  if  they  said  more." 

"What  is  the  system  of  this  central  chamber  where 
one  may  stand  in  the  center  and  hear  all  the  sounds, 
I  cannot  fathom,  yet,"  continued  the  Professor,  un- 
ruffled. "But  evidently  in  the  tunnels  there  are 
sound  centers,  also — possibly  where  sounds  are  de- 
flected across  from  wall  to  wall;  so  that  unless  a  per- 
son chances  to  be  in  the  right  position,  in  the  interior, 
he  will  remain  ignorant  of  conversations  elsewhere." 

"Huh!"  mumbled  Grizzly  Dan.  "Heap  talk.  Every 
one  knows  this  hyar  air  a  medicine  cave,  fitted  up  to 
fool  folks  with  spirit  voices.  We'd  better  get  out, 
'fore  it  tumbles  in  on  us.  Question  air,  which  hole 
to  tackle  fust." 

"Let  Bonita  lead  us.  She  was  splendid  for  Cherry 
and  me,"  proposed  Molly.  "I  loved  such  a  rescue. 
It  ought  to  go  into  a  story." 


190  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"I  don't  know  whether  she'll  lead  out,  or  not,"  said 
Phil,  doubtfully.  "She  might.  But  there  isn't  any- 
body to  call  her." 

"Now,  be-chance  we  can  depind  on  Brownie,"  an- 
nounced the  little  man  with  the  one  leg.  "Let  me  talk 
to  her,  wance,  explainin'.  Sure,  'tis  wonderful  how 
shmart  she  be,  whin  she  has  the  notion." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

BROWNIE  TO  THE  FRONT 

THEY  had  finished  eating,  and  Grizzly  Dan  had 
finished  his  smoke  with  his  short  black  pipe.  Bonita 
and  her  pups,  having  gobbled  all  the  scraps  thrown 
to  them,  were  curled  in  one  bunch,  asleep;  Brownie 
the  burro  stood,  head  low,  ears  drooped,  comfortably 
dozing  again ;  Flapjack  Jim  scrambled  up  and  stumped 
to  her. 

"Now,  darlint,"  he  crooned,  laying  his  arm  about 
her  shaggy  neck,  and  speaking  into  her  ear,  "  'tis 
anxious  we  are  to  get  out  o'  here,  an'  mebbe  you  are 
the  same.  It  be  no  place  for  anywan,  you  see — shut 
in  with  a  dumb  mummy  even  if  she  be  young  an' 
purty,  an'  the  flour  for  flapjacks  runnin'  low.  Arrah, 
come  around  with  me  an'  shmell  the  holes,  an'  when 
yez  get  a  whisk  o'  fresh  air  tell  me,  darlint — but  for 
the  love  o'  the  good  Peter  don't  thry  any  hole  that 
has  only  the  wan  end.  An'  listen,  darlint :  we  wouldn't 
want  to  be  fetched  forninst  the  end  where  those  three 
shpalpeens  o'  whippershnappets  be  waitin'  to  hit  us 
with  a  rock,  an'  shtale  you,  my  jewel.  No.  Now 
come,  an'  show  the  ladies  an'  gintlemen  how  amazin' 
shmart  yez  be." 

So  saying,  he  gently  grasped  one  of  Brownie's 
long,  wobbly  ears,  and  impelled  her  for  a  round  of 

191 


192  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

the  tunnel  openings.  On  her  small,  lagging  hoofs 
Brownie  methodically  accompanied,  as  if  willing  but 
bored. 

"Do  you  think  she  understood?"  queried  Cherry, 
breathless  with  interest. 

"Of  course  not,"  scoffed  Chet  "She'd  never  show 
it  if  she  did.  But  burros  are  smart,  though — when 
they  want  to  be." 

"Like  cats,"  agreed  Cherry. 

"If  I  had  my  old  mule  hyar,  she'd  take  us  out," 
grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "She  knows  more'n  I  do,  does 
that  thar  critter  o'  mine." 

"The  instinct  of  mules  has  been  rated  as  keener 
than  even  that  of  horses,"  pronounced  the  Professor. 
"And  I  do  not  see  why  the  jackass  may  not  be  equally 
as  useful  in  emergency." 

Brownie  meekly  suffered  herself  to  be  led  to  hole 
after  hole,  and  conducted  partly  within.  But  from 
each  she  derived  little  pleasure  or  little  expectation; 
and  from  each  alike  she  drew  back.  Thus  she  rather 
stolidly  passed  upon — or  apparently  passed  upon — 
five  of  the  nine  openings.  Just  what  action  Flapjack 
Jim  anticipated  from  her  none  of  the  spectators  could 
say;  however,  they  watched,  waiting. 

"Is  that  the  wan,  darlint?"  queried  the  little  man, 
anxiously,  before  each  hole.  "Ah,  now,"  he  wheedled ; 
"take  a  good  shmell  an'  think  it  over.  It  be  not,  ye 
say?  Well,  then,  we'll  go  to  the  nixt." 

At  the  sixth  he  exclaimed  triumphantly.  "Here's 
the  wan,"  came  his  announcement.  "She's  found  the 
very  shpot,  hooray!  Didn't  I  tell  yez?  Kape  yore 


BROWNIE  TO  THE  FRONT  193 

eye  on  the  hole,  all  o'  yez,  so  it  won't  get  away  an' 
mix  up  with  the  rest  of  'em,  whilst  I  pack  her  in 
more  dacent  fashion." 

"How  do  you  know  that's  the  best  tunnel?"  de- 
manded Chet. 

"How  do  I  know,  yez  ask?  Don't  I  know  by  the 
figger  of  her,  an'  by  the  nostrils  of  her,  an'  by  the 
voice  of  her?"  For  Brownie,  her  head  thrust  well 
within  the  tunnel  mouth,  was  swelling  with  hearty 
breaths,  and  suddenly  dispatched  into  the  depths  a 
long  "Hee-haw!" 

"There,  there!"  soothed  Flapjack  Jim,  shoving  her 
back.  "Be  'asy,  my  darlint,  jist  till  we  can  all  get 
on  our  fate  ready  to  follow  ye.  Sure,  an'  we  now 
know  all  about  it.  'Tis  a  grand  tunnel,  entirely,  an' 
ye  shall  lade  us  out,  like  a  gineral  ladin'  his  troops 
to  bate  the  innimy." 

"Wagh !  Might  as  well  try  that  hole,  as  any,"  quoth 
Grizzly  Dan.  "Mornin'  must  be  near,  an'  it  air  time 
we  war  findin'  out." 

"Funny  crowd,  with  not  a  watch  in  it,"  observed 
Phil. 

"I  have  a  watch,  but  I  must  have  omitted  to  wind 
it,  for  I  see  that  it  has  stopped,"  remarked  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"Kape  your  eye  on  the  hole,  kape  your  eye  on  the 
hole,"  cautioned  Flapjack  Jim,  as  with  help  he  worked 
to  lash  tight  Brownie's  pack. 

"I'll  stick  my  arm  in  it,"  volunteered  Cherry,  run- 
ning across  and  performing  that  very  act.  "I  do 
believe  I  can  feel  a  sort  of  draught,"  she  asserted. 


i94  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"No  doubt  all  these  entrances  communicate  with 
the  outer  air,"  said  her  father.  "The  question  is, 
which  is  the  direct  and  safe  passage." 

"Depind  on  Brownie,"  panted  the  little  man,  her 
master.  "There,  now,  my  jewel,"  he  addressed,  con- 
ducting her  forward  by  the  ear.  "Show  them  how 
shmart  ye  be." 

Brownie  obediently  proceeded  into  the  vault-shaped 
opening.  She  did  not  hurry.  Burros  never  hurry. 
She  stepped  with  deliberate  step,  as  if  conscious  of  her 
dignity — or  as  if  contrary;  dnd  half  within  she  halted, 
blocking  the  way,  while  she  dispatched  down  the  mys- 
terious corridor  her  strident  "Hee-haw!" 

She  resumed  her  march ;  and  falling  in  behind  her, 
the  company  followed.  At  her  heels  stumped  Flap- 
jack Jim,  bearing,  as  usual,  upon  his  shoulder  his  old 
pick.  Beside  him  trod  close  Grizzly  Dan,  his  moc- 
casins thudding  softly  as  he  must  accommodate  his 
long  stride  to  the  methodical  pace  of  Brownie.  Then 
walked  the  two  girls.  "Goodby,  Miss  Pretty  Indian. 
I  hope  that  nobody  ever  disturbs  you,"  bade  Cherry 
to  the  figure  in  the  chair.  The  Professor  trudged  be- 
hind; and  Chet  and  Phil  closed  in  the  rear,  save  that 
Bonita  and  the  pups  pattered  after. 

Glancing  back,  Phil  also  bade  farewell,  but  a  silent 
farewell,  to  the  gently  illumined  chamber  where 
reigned  that  girlish  figure,  like  a  sleeping  princess 
waiting  to  be  wakened. 

The  glow  extended  for  a  short  distance  into  the 
tunnel.  It  gradually  decreased.  However,  a  dusky 
half-light  persisted  still,  and  they  all  might  grope 


BROWNIE  TO  THE  FRONT  195 

along  carefully,  until  at  last  Flapjack  Jim  applied 
match  to  his  candle  bit. 

"This  isn't  our  tunnel,"  declared  Chet  to  Phil.  "At 
least,  don't  think  it  is." 

"That's  hard  to  tell,"  answered  Phil.  "All  tunnels 
look  alike  to  me.  Especially  dark  ones !" 

"If  it's  our  tunnel,  we'll  all  come  out  into  day, 
pretty  soon,  where  Papa  and  Molly  and  I  sat  so  long. 
That  is,  unless  we  come  out  into  night,  instead.  Be- 
cause if  it's  day  on  one  side  of  the  world,  it's  night 
on  the  other,"  prattled  Cherry. 

"We  must  watch  for  sandwich  crumbs,"  responded 
Molly. 

"But  there  weren't  any  crumbs,"  objected  Cherry. 
"Not  one.  We  didn't  leave  any,  and  I'm  sure  Bonita 
didn't.  She  swallowed  her  sandwich  whole." 

Occasionally  Brownie  paused  and  sighed.  They 
all  respectfully  waited  upon  her  pleasure.  Burros 
are  fond  of  pausing,  and  Brownie  was  not  to  be 
crossed. 

Presently  she  made  a  more  decided  stop.  Grizzly 
Dan  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  holding  his  candle 
forward,  to  one  side,  Flapjack  Jim  peered.  Peered 
also  Grizzly  Dan,  his  shaggy  head,  under  its  flapping- 
brimmed  hat,  grotesquely  outlined. 

"  'Tis  another  tunnel,  or  the  like,"  announced  Flap- 
jack Jim  to  the  company  behind.  And  he  addressed 
Brownie :  "Be  'asy,  darlint.  Take  your  time,  an'  con- 
sider well.  Wan,  two,  four,  siven,  twelve  we  be, 
depindin'  on  ye:  yis,  five  men,  two  gyurls,  an*  five 
dogs.  Take  your  time." 


196  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

With  a  snorty  sigh,  as  if  weaned  of  her  master's 
endearing  terms,  Brownie  turned  in.  All  followed. 

The  new  tunnel  continued  similar  to  the  first,  with 
timbered  walls  and  ceiling,  upon  which  the  flicker  of 
Flapjack  Jim's  feeble  candle-flame  cast  strange  shad- 
ows. Soon  Brownie  stopped  short  again,  before  an- 
other opening. 

"That's  right,  darlint,"  encouraged  her  master. 
"Consider,  consider.  Nobody's  pressin'  ye." 

But  after  thrusting  in  her  head,  and  sniffing  loudly, 
with  another  snorty  sigh,  this  time  as  if  in  contempt, 
Brownie  passed  the  opening  by. 

The  march  seemed  interminable.  Side  openings 
recurred,  ever  and  anon;  all  of  them  Brownie  sys- 
tematically investigated,  only  to  discard  the  great 
majority.  However,  she  selected  two — enough  so 
that  Chet  grew  alarmed. 

"Jiminy !"  he  muttered  to  Phil.  "We're  plumb  lost, 
for  sure,  now.  It  would  be  a  great  joke  if  she  smelt 
those  hostiles  and  was  leading  us  into  them!" 

"I  should  say!"  agreed  Phil. 

So  long  was  the  way,  with  so  many  turns,  and  so 
slow  was  Brownie,  that  anxiety  more  and  more  per- 
meated the  little  column  trudging  bravely  through  the 
dimness.  Should  Brownie  fail  them,  then  they  cer- 
tainly were  in  serious  plight. 

"Wagh!"  grumbled  Grizzly  Dan,  ominously.  "We 
got  meat  a-plenty,  anyhow.  An'  if  this  critter  doesn't 
live  up  to  'greement,  we'd  better  eat  her  fust  'fore  she 
walks  herself  thin." 

"Arrah!"    protested    Flapjack    Jim,    in    distress. 


BROWNIE  TO  THE  FRONT  197 

"Don't  be  after  talkin'  it  so  she  can  hear.  Yez'll  make 
her  nervous.  Sure,  won't  the  puppies  be  a  nice  ten- 
derer dish?  O'  course  they  will." 

"No,  we  mustn't  eat  them!"  besought  Cherry.  "I 
haven't  even  got  acquainted  with  them  yet — and 
Bonita  guided  us  beautifully." 

"It  would  be  more  romantic  to  starve  than  to  eat 
a  burro,"  quavered  Molly. 

"At  the  point  of  starvation,  food  of  any  description 
appeals,"  instructed  the  Professor.  "But  I  don't  be- 
lieve we  shall  be  put  to  such  straits.  Isn't  it  growing 
lighter,  ahead?" 

"Yis!"  cried  Flapjack  Jim,  jubilantly.  "Hooray! 
I  see  daylight!  Rale  daylight,  an'  none  o'  ye's 
'essences  or  'osities.  Daylight,  b'  gorry!"  And  he 
blew  out  his  candle. 

"Sh!"  bade  Grizzly  Dan.  "Too  much  talk.  Hold 
foot,  shut  mouth,  whilst  I  take  a  look." 

On  rapid,  noiseless  soles  he  slipped  forward.  Come 
to  a  standstill,  huddled  and  panting,  they  waited. 

Truly,  before  was  a  rounded,  whitely  opening 
orifice  that  might  well  be  an  exit  into  the  outer  world 
of  day.  It  was  yet  distant;  but  now  grouped  the  little 
party  could  see  one  another's  faces. 

"Maybe  it's  only  another  of  those  light  places  like 
the  ones  we've  been  in,"  suggested  Chet  under  his 
breath. 

"No;  it  appears  more  like  genuine  daylight,"  de- 
clared the  Professor. 

"Oh,  I  hope  so !"  murmured  Cherry. 

"Of  course  it's  daylight;  ain't  it,  darlint!"  spoke 


198  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Flapjack  Jim,  his  arm  about  Brownie's  woolly 
neck.  "An'  they  talked  o'  'atin'  ye — the  ungrateful 
crathers !" 

Grizzly  Dan's  rapidly  moving  figure  was  now  and 
again  outlined,  as  pressing  against  the  wall  he  must 
round  an  occasional  angle.  All  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  him ;  stealing  forward  more  cautiously,  he  neared 
the  goal.  Bonita,  ears  erect,  nose  sniffing,  whined. 

"Be  quiet,  Bonita!"  ordered  Phil,  tersely. 

Brownie  drooped  her  long-eared  head,  and  dozed. 

Grizzly  Dan  had  reached  the  opening.  They  could 
see  him  upon  hands  and  knees,  stretching  his  neck,  to 
survey.  His  head  projected  through  the  orifice — his 
shoulders  and  body  followed;  and  he  squatted,  out- 
side, craning  right  and  left.  He  made  a  comical 
silhouette,  but  the  moment  was  too  intensely  critical 
for  anybody  to  snigger. 

He  deftly  reentered,  and  with  repeated  wave  of 
fringed  arm  against  the  whity  background  motioned 
the  expectant  company  to  come  out.  Evidently  all 
was  well.  A  universal  sigh  of  great  relief  was 
uttered. 

"There !"  said  Cherry.    "Mister  Dan  says  to  come." 

"Didn't  I  tell  yez?  Didn't  I  tell  yez?"  insisted 
Flapjack  Jim.  "On  with  ye,  Brownie,  into  the  blessed 
daylight.  Sure  ye  ought  to  be  pensioned  on  flapjacks 
all  the  rest  o'  ye's  life!"  And— "Wait!  'Asy,  now," 
he  addressed  to  the  rest,  who  were  crowding  eagerly. 
"Give  her  the  post  o'  honor,  won't  yez?  Would  yez 
pass  her  an*  lave  her  to  the  rear,  after  she  be  openin' 
the  thrail  for  yez  ?  An'  she  a  lady,  too !" 


BROWNIE  TO  THE  FRONT  199 

At  a  rousing  slap  upon  the  flank  Brownie  had  re- 
sumed her  methodical  pace.  Humoring  Flapjack 
Jim,  they  proceeded  in  the  same  order  as  before. 

"That's  snow!"  exclaimed  Phil,  now  as  they  ap- 
proached the  exit,  which  widened  by  nearness.  "Huh !" 

"Huh!"  echoed  Chet. 

With  everybody  peering,  and  with  even  Brownie 
aroused  so  that  she  jutted  forward  her  rabbity  ears, 
they  arrived  at  the  opening. 

Yes,  it  was  the  exit.  As  one  by  one  they  emerged, 
Grizzly  Dan  was  awaiting  them.  He  was  standing 
leaning  upon  Sally,  his  long  flintlock  rifle,  while  with 
slowly  turning  head  he  scanned  the  landscape. 

They  emerged  into  snow,  and  into  early  morning. 
The  snow  extended  above,  is  extended  also  the  slope 
of  the  mountain  until  it  was  obscured  by  a  layer  of 
a  cloud.  Not  deep,  here,  was  the  snow;  and  below  it 
soon  ceased,  so  that  they  must  be  on  the  edge  of  it. 
The  sun  had  not  yet  risen,  but  the  east  was  betokened 
by  a  margin  of  pink,  outlining  darkly  wooded  hills. 
The  night  had  passed. 

Wan  of  face,  in  the  white  light,  after  the  anxiety 
of  the  vigils  in  the  old  workings,  they  all  stared  about. 

"Where  are  we,  anyway?"  demanded  Chet.  "This 
chile's  plumb  lost  again." 

"Must  be  somewhere  on  Red  Chief,  still,"  reasoned 
Phil. 

"Wagh !"  grunted  old  Dan.  He  pointed.  "Smoke ! 
See  it?  Thar  air  those  three  hostiles,  I  bet  Jee." 

"Faith,  then,  we've  come  out  above  them!"  cackled 
Flapjack  Jim.  "They  be  shtill  a-watchin'  at  the  same 


200  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

ould  hole!  Do  ye  see,  Brownie,  how  shmart  ye 
were?" 

"Well,  I'll  be  jiggered,"  said  Chet.  "Isn't  this 
great?" 

From  a  spot  distant  half  a  mile  or  more,  and 
diagonally  below,  smoke  like  thin  camp-fire  smoke 
was  wafting  upward  above  red  rocks  and  stunted, 
sparse  cedars. 

"I  declare!"  exclaimed  the  Professor.  "We've 
builded  better  than  we  knew.  But  the  question  is, 
exactly  where  are  we?" 


CHAPTER    XVII 

GRIZZLY  DAN'S   BOOTY 

"WHERE  could  we  be,  but  on  old  Red  Chief?"  re- 
plied Grizzly  Dan.  "Heap  medicine  he  air,  too. 
We've  gone  right  through  him,  or  through  part  of 
him.  Up  yon,  higher  than  those  clouds,  air  his  head. 
An'  across,  to  the  south'ard,  air  Warrior  Peak.  I 
know.  Can't  fool  this  coon,  when  he's  atop  the  ground 
agin.  He  air  a  mountain  man,  he  air." 

"That's  right,"  mused  Phil,  wonderingly,  to  Chet. 
"Guess  the  high  place,  beyond  the  timber,  is  Warrior, 
though  I  didn't  recognize  it." 

"Looking  at  it  from  a  different  angle,"  hazarded 
Chet. 

"What,  then,  had  we  better  do?"  invited  the  Pro- 
fessor. "The  boys  in  camp  ought  to  be  notified  as 
quickly  as  possible.  They  will  be  alarmed,  and  look- 
ing for  us." 

"Ought  to  fill  meat-bags.  That's  fust,"  pronounced 
Grizzly  Dan,  with  his  customary  suggestion.  "Only 
hain't  got  much  to  fill  'em  with.  Now,  if  you  all  '11 
jest  cache  yoreselves  'tother  side  that  little  rise,  this 
coon  thinks  he'll  take  a  pasear  down  an'  reconnoiter 
that  hostile  camp  an'  see  if  he  can't  get  a  hos  or  two, 
an'  his  pot." 

"But  wouldn't  ye  be  after  waitin'  for  a  bite  o'  flap- 

201 


202  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

jack?"  queried  Jim,  earnestly.  "Sure,  they  only  need 
the  makin'  of  'em,  an'  they  would  taste  powerful 
good." 

"Pot  meat,  that's  the  fodder  we  ought  to  have;  pot 
meat,"  rebuked  Grizzly  Dan,  severely.  And  he 
wagged  his  beard.  "Somethin'  to  chaw  on.  Hyar's 
a  chile  as  is  nigh  gone  for  taste  o'  beaver  tail  or 
buff'ler  hump,  or — "  and  he  hesitated,  "other  critter 
that  goes  to  pot.  But  flapjacks — wagh!  He  air  no 
burro.  Besides,  'tain't  safe  to  stir  much  till  we  know 
what  those  'ere  hostiles  are  up  to.  Jest  cache  yore- 
selves  as  I  said  an'  I'll  do  a  little  scoutin',  an'  pass 
word  to  my  old  pony  an'  mule;  mebbe  get  pot." 

"All  right.  Let's  do  as  he  says.  Come  on,"  pro- 
posed Chet. 

The  exit  from  the  tunnel  was  in  the  side  of  a  low, 
rounded  back  or  swell  of  the  mountain  slope.  Con- 
tinuing from  it  the  swell  subsided  and  soon  merged, 
above,  with  the  slope  itself.  Plodding  across  a  low 
place  in  it,  upon  the  opposite  side  the  party  found 
opened  to  their  gaze  a  long,  shallow  draw  falling 
away  in  a  brushy,  rocky  stretch  to  a  valley  far  down. 
Glancing  back  from  the  top  of  the  miniature  divide 
that  they  traversed,  Phil  witnessed  Grizzly  Dan  strid- 
ing off,  lean  rifle  upon  shoulder,  moccasins  directed 
straight  for  descent  to  the  camp-fire  smoke,  and  head 
still  wagging  as  if  filled  with  defense  of  his  beloved 
pot. 

So  the  darkness  was  over  and  gone,  and  from  the 
night  of  the  tunnels  as  well  as  from  the  real  night 
enveloping  all  things  they  had  emerged  into  another 


GRIZZLY  DAN'S  BOOTY  203 

day.  The  snow  was  the  snow  deposited  by  the  storm 
of  the  noon  before — a  storm  that  seemed  long  ago. 
In  penetrating  through  the  section  of  the  mountain 
they  had  constantly  ascended ;  and  thus  they  had  come 
out  higher;  for  below,  as  said,  was  the  bared  slope, 
containing  the  holes  by  which  the  workings  had  been 
entered. 

The  sun  was  just  about  to  flare  into  view  above 
those  misty  crests  which  comprised,  among  other 
things,  according  to  Grizzly  Dan,  the  prone  figure  of 
Warrior  Peak.  Upon  the  farther  side  of  the  little 
back  or  rise  the  party  halted,  here  to  wait  concealed 
from  the  eyes  of  the  camp-fire  tenders.  Rocks  up- 
jutting  offered  seats.  Brownie  immediately  began  to 
crop  brush  and  weeds.  Bonita  and  her  family  shiv- 
ered; the  air,  not  yet  modified  by  the  sun,  was  chill. 

"Poor  puppies/'  sympathized  Cherry.  "Come 
here;  I  want  to  get  acquainted  with  you." 

"They're  half  black  wolf,"  explained  Phil,  proudly. 

"Wagh!    Regular  Injun  dogs,"  grunted  Chet. 

"Will  they  bite?" 

"No.  But  their  father  is  some  black  wolf,  just 
the  same.  This  one's  Limpy;  foot  hurt.  The  one 
without  any  white  spot  is  Nig.  That  fat  one's  Woof, 
and  the  shaggy  one  is  Rags.  They — " 

"Look!"  cried  Chet,  gazing  down  the  long,  shallow 
draw,  which  was  turning  pink  in  the  reflection  of  the 
imminent  sun.  "I  see  more  people.  Three  of  'em!" 

All  did  look,  scanning  earnestly  the  reddish  slope, 
rock  and  brush  mottled. 

"Right  you  are,  my  boy,"  confirmed  Flapjack  Jim, 


204  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

squinting  to  peer.  "Be  they  friends  or  hostiles,  now, 
I  wonder?" 

"I  see  them/'  also  announced  Phil.  "Three. 
School-of-mines  fellows,  aren't  they?" 

It  seemed  to  him  that  even  at  the  distance  he  could 
distinguish  the  sombreros,  blue  shirts,  and  corduroys 
and  laced  boots. 

"Where?  We  don't  see  anybody.  Where?"  im- 
plored Cherry,  excited.  "I'd  just  as  soon  it  would 
be  the  school-of -mines  boys  now.  You've  beat  them." 

"Maybe  we'd  better  make  a  noise — fire  a  gun,  say, 
to  attract  their  attention,"  suggested  the  Professor. 
"They  probably  are  searching  for  us." 

"N-no;  let's  wait  till  we're  sure,"  answered  Chet, 
his  keen  blue  eyes  fixed  upon  the  moving  forms  yet 
indistinct.  "Might  be  somebody  else." 

"It  would  be  a  joke  if  they  were  those  three  hos- 
tiles," said  Phil,  chuckling  at  the  thought.  "Then 
Grizzly  Dan  would  lift  their  whole  camp." 

"Huh!"  agreed  Chet. 

Intent,  they  waited.  The  Professor  and  the  two 
girls  now  had  sighted  the  trio,  who,  gradually  ascend- 
ing, were  likewise  gradually  approaching. 

"They  are!"  exclaimed  Phil,  gladly.  "They  are 
some  of  the  school-of-mines  fellows.  They're  wear- 
ing the  same  rig,  anyhow.  They've  got  a  burro." 

"Reckon  you're  right,"  murmured  Chet.  "Front 
one  looks  like  Dick." 

"Let's  give  them  a  yell,  all  together,"  proposed  the 
Professor. 

"Ah,  now,  hould  off  a  bit,  say  I,"  cautioned  Flap- 


GRIZZLY  DAN'S  BOOTY  205 

jack  Jim.  "A  yell  be  har-rd  to  shtop,  ye  know;  an' 
while  it  be  travelin'  in  wan  direction  it  be  travelin' 
in  the  other,  where  Dan  is  headin'." 

"Yes,"  supported  Chet,  quickly.  "Don't  let's  yell. 
I'll  go  down." 

And  down  he  strode. 

"Well,  we  can  wave,  anyway,"  declared  Cherry; 
and  thereupon  she  snatched  her  handkerchief  from 
her  neck  and,  wildly  dancing,  flourished  it.  The  Pro- 
fessor flourished  his  hat. 

Chet  made  rapid  progress,  lessening  the  distance 
between  him  and  the  upward  trudging  figures.  He 
appeared  to  hasten  more  and  more  fearlessly. 

"It's  they,  all  right,"  again  pronounced  Phil,  con- 
vinced. 

"Yes.  See?  He  recognizes  them,"  confirmed 
Cherry. 

For  Chet,  pausing  and  clambering  upon  a  rock, 
was  waving  his  hand.  He  beckoned.  The  figures 
responded.  He  awaited  their  arrival.  Presently  they 
joined  him,  and  shook  hands  vigorously  with  him. 
Then,  gazing  where  he  pointed,  they  waved  to  the 
party  above ;  and  the  four  of  them,  with  packed  burro, 
pressed  on. 

"It's  Mister  Dick  and  Mister  Fat  and  Mister  Jinks," 
proclaimed  Cherry.  "I'm  glad.  I  think  I  like  them 
the  best  of  all." 

"Such  a  romantic  meeting,  again,"  breathed  Molly. 
"At  dawn,  on  the  mighty  mountain-side,  after  a  night 
of  peril." 

"Faith,"  laughed  Flapjack  Jim,  "I  would  take  a 


206  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

little  liss  romance  an'  a  little  more  comfort,  bedad! 
The  wooden  leg  o'  me  is  half  frozen,  an'  I  be  empty 
clane  to  the  ind  of  it." 

The  four  figures  were  drawing  near.  More  wav- 
ings  were  exchanged. 

"Hello,"  called  Cherry,  clearly.  "You're  too  late. 
We're  rescued." 

"So  we  see.  Well,  we  did  the  best  we  could," 
panted  Dick,  cheerily.  "Mighty  glad  somebody  res- 
cued you.  That  was  the  important  point,"  and  in  a 
broad  grin  of  delight  he  shook  hands  all  round,  not 
omitting  Flapjack  Jim.  "How  are  you  all?  Hungry? 
Tired?" 

Fat  and  Jinks  also  shook  hands  all  round. 

"Hello,  Professor." 

"Thought  you  were  eaten  by  bears,  sure." 

"We  kept  a  fire  going  for  you." 

"Then  we  started  out  again  early  this  morning." 

"Had  breakfast?" 

"Here's  some  milk  chocolate,  as  a  first-aid  pack- 
age." 

"Oh,  goody!"  cried  Cherry. 

"Was  it  romantic  enough  for  you,  Miss  Molly?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"We've  been  in  a  perfectly  splendid  cave,"  an- 
nounced Cherry. 

"Where  are  the  other  boys?"  asked  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"They're  farther  along,"  answered  Dick.  "We 
split  up  into  parties  when  we  left  camp,  so  as  to  spread 
out.  Didn't  know  but  that  we'd  have  to  carry  some 


GRIZZLY  DAN'S  BOOTY  207 

of  you.    Guess  we  can  make  some  of  them  hear.  Give 
them  the  yell,  fellows.     Now — all  together : 

"'Rah!  'Rah!  M-I-N-E-S! 
Mines!  Mines!  Mines!" 

Before  they  could  be  cautioned,  the  draw  echoed 
with  the  ringing  college  yell,  to  which  Cherry  and 
Molly  and  the  Professor  contributed  their  voices  also. 
Brownie  was  startled,  and  Bonita  and  the  pups  pricked 
their  ears. 

"Hurray!"  responded  another  hearty  cheer. 

Over  the  top  of  the  little  ridge  beyond  which  lay 
the  exit  from  the  workings  appeared  several  som- 
brero-crowned heads  and  blue-flannel  shoulders. 
Down  trooped  their  owners,  to  swell  the  school-of- 
mines  crew.  They  also  brought  a  packed  burro. 
There  was  more  greeting  and  shaking  of  hands. 

After  having  sat  up  on  watch,  by  turns,  all  night, 
and  having  kept  a  fire  going,  the  school-of-mines  boys 
had  started  out  again  at  daybreak  upon  further  search. 

"When  you  and  your  partner  didn't  come  back," 
said  Dick  to  Phil,  "we  thought  sure  that  something 
bad  had  happened  to  you  and  to  the  Professor's  party 
too, — Indians  had  captured  you,  or  a  bear  eaten  you, 
you  know,"  and  he  laughed.  "The  mountain  was 
swallowing  people  as  fast  as  they  went  out  on  it." 

So  this  time  the  camp  divided  into  squads,  each 
taking  a  burro  packed  with  emergency  supplies,  and 
kept  in  touch  while  it  set  forth  to  climb  to  the  snow 
and  examine  that  for  tracks.  Then  followed  the 
happy  reunion. 


208  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Shall  we  yell  for  that  other  bunch?  They'll  be 
still  looking,  if  they  didn't  hear,"  suggested  Fat. 

"No;  I  can  see  'em.  They  see  me,"  called  back 
Jinks,  who  had  hastily  mounted  the  ridge  again,  recon- 
noitering.  He  waved  and  swung  his  hat.  "Here 
they  come.  And  somebody  else,  too,  off  in  that  other 
direction.  One  man." 

"Walking  or  riding?"  queried  Chet. 

"Walking.  Stick,  or  gun,  over  his  shoulder.  And 
something — he's  packing  something." 

"That  must  be  old  Dan.  Jiminy!  Didn't  he  get 
any  hawsses?"  exclaimed  Chet.  And  followed  by 
Phil  he  ran  up  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  whence  was 
gazing  Jinks. 

Sure  enough,  Grizzly  Dan  was  returning,  plodding 
along  the  snow,  and  bent  forward  to  balance  an  object 
slung  from  his  rifle-barrel,  across  his  shoulder.  He 
was  making  best  speed,  as  if  anxious  to  arrive.  From 
the  opposite  direction  were  approaching  the  remainder 
of  the  school-of -mines  camp — the  third  squad,  with 
a  burro. 

The  eyes  of  Phil  and  Chet  were  interested  chiefly 
in  old  Dan. 

"Is  it  he  ?"  asked  Cherry  from  the  crowd  below. 

"Yes;  it's  he,  all  right,"  replied  Phil. 

"Who's  he?'"  invited  the  curly-headed  Jinks. 

"Grizzly  Dan.  The  other  member  of  our  prospect- 
ing gang,"  explained  Phil. 

"Miner?" 

"No;  old  trapper." 

"Oh,  he's  the  man  who  fought  a  duel  with  that  old 


GRIZZLY  DAN'S  BOOTY  209 

Cheyenne,  last  summer,  when  you  folks  all  were  cor- 
ralled by  the  Indians,  is  he?"  said  Jinks,  with  lively 
curiosity. 

"He  shore  is,"  responded  Chet.  "He  went  down 
to  spy  on  that  camp  where  that  smoke  is,  and  to  see 
if  he  couldn't  get  oiir  hawsses  back,  maybe.  Those 
three  fellows  have  our  hawsses,  we  think.  But  he 
didn't  get  any,  I  reckon." 

"No ;  but  I  tell  you  what  that  is,  on  his  rifle !"  cried 
Phil.  "It's  his  pot!  He's  got  his  pot,  anyhow!" 
And  Phil  laughed  until  he  doubled  over. 

"Aw — !"  grinned  Chet,  ready  to  laugh  also. 
"Wouldn't  that  kill  yuh !" 

"Great  stunt,"  commented  Jinks. 

Yes,  the  brass  pot  it  was.  The  rays  of  the  risen 
sun  flashed  upon  its  familiar  battered  round  sides. 
Now  old  Dan  came  panting  along.  The  two  boys 
his  partners  ran  down  to  meet  him,  as  he  reached  the 
ridge.  They  found  him  quite  out  of  breath. 

"'I  tell  Jee,"  he  wheezed,  "I  tell  'ee,  this  coon  air 
nigh  gone  under." 

"Here.  Let  us  take  it.  We'll  carry  it  over,"  in- 
sisted Chet  and  Phil,  together.  They  removed  the 
pot  from  old  Dan's  rifle-barrel.  He  willingly  allowed 
them.  "Gee,  but  it's  heavy,"  proffered  Chet. 

"Hot,  too!"  ejaculated  Phil,  startled.     "Wow!" 

"She  air  full  o'  meat,  boy;  she  air  full  o'  meat," 
wheezed  old  Dan,  proudly.  "Couldn't  get  hos  or 
mule,  but  I  got  pot,  an'  I  air  powerful  glad.  The 
meat  air  cooked  an'  we  all  can  fall  right  to  an'  eat 
proper,  agin.  Wagh!" 


210  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Did  you  see  the  hawsses?  Any  of  them?"  asked 
Chet 

"Those  were  the  three  hostiles,  were  they,  then?" 
queried  Phil. 

"Sartin,  sartin,"  assured  old  Dan,  as  now  they  pro- 
ceeded on  to  cross  to  the  other  side  of  the  little  ridge, 
the  two  boys  carrying  the  pot  between  them.  It  was 
half  filled  with  a  thick  stew  of  meat,  still  steaming. 

"Sartin,"  assured  old  Dan.  "I  recognized  'em, 
long  'fore  I  war  near  to  'em.  The  Black  Man,  an' 
the  Cross-eyed  Man,  and  the  Man  with  the  Scar. 
They  war  gettin'  breakfast  when  I  arrove — but  I 
warn't  invited"  (and  old  Dan  chuckled)  "  'cause  I 
warn't  seen.  They  war  gettin'  breakfast  in  front  o' 
the  hole  whar  Jim  an'  I,  an'  I  reckon  the  Professor- 
man  an'  those  thar  two  gals,  had  entered  in.  Hosses, 
my  pony  an'  yore  three  hosses,  an'  two  for  them,  an' 
my  old  mule,  war  picketed  out,  little  way  below,  whar 
thar's  grass  in  a  holler.  They  war  picketed  so  strong 
nobody  could  break  'em  loose  without  cuttin'  rope. 
But  my  old  mule  smelled  me,  she  did,  an'  wagh! — 
she  cut  a  caper  an'  made  a  snortin',  she  did ;  an'  down 
they  all  come,  runnin'.  Then  only  thing  I  could  do 
war  to  run  other  way,  'round  up  to  camp,  lift  pot  from 
fire,  an'  move  moccasins  mighty  fast,  I  tell  'ee !  Yes, 
sir.  Pot  'most  set  me  on  fire,  too,  it  was  so  plaguey 
hot.  S'pose,"  mused  Grizzly  Dan,  apologetic,  "I 
mought  have  lain  by  an'  lifted  ha'r  from  the  whole 
bunch.  Sally  an'  I  could  have  wiped  'em  out,  com- 
plete; an'  we'd  had  cntters  an'  pot  too.  But,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  'tain't  hardly  human  to  do  that,  nowadays. 


GRIZZLY  DAN'S  BOOTY  211 

Killin'  folks  air  a  pore  business.  So  I  tuk  pot  an'  left 
critters.  If  I'd  tuk  critters  I'd  have  had  to  leave  pot. 
It  war  a  problem,  either  way  you  put  it.  I  air  terrible 
fond  o'  this  pot,  'specially  when  it's  on  the  fire,  ready 
to  fill  meat-bags." 

It  seemed  to  Phil  that  the  horses  were  rather  the 
more  important  item,  but  Grizzly  Dan  had  probably 
done  the  very  best  that  he  could.  They  had  crossed 
the  little  ridge,  and  were  bearing  down  upon  the  com- 
pany gathered  at  its  farther  foot.  The  third  detach- 
ment of  the  school-of-mines  camp  had  joined  the  com- 
pany, and  with  the  arrival  of  old  Dan  the  count  would 
be  complete.  Old  Dan  jubilantly  heralded  ahead. 

"Hyar's  meat  in  pot,  ready  for  the  teeth,"  he  an- 
nounced gleefully. 

"Hooray!"  cheered  the  little  Irishman.  "An'  ain't 
we  the  fortunate  wans,  though !" 

"Couldn't  get  critters,"  proclaimed  old  Dan,  ex- 
cited by  the  number  of  his  audience  receiving  him, 
"but  got  pot — which  air  -'most  as  necessary.  You 
can't  ride  unless  meat-bag  air  'tended  to ;  an'  pot  eatin'" 
air  the  only  proper  eatin'.  Wagh!" 

"We've  brought  plenty  of  stuff,  in  those  packs," 
said  Dick  to  Chet  and  Phil.  "Grub  and  blankets  and 
everything." 

"This  pot  has  breakfast  in  it,  thanks,"  answered 
Phil.  "Enough  for  the  Professor  and  the  girls,  too, 
if  they  want  it." 

"Of  course  we  want  it,"  declared  Cherry  and  Molly. 
"Is  it  warm?" 

"Right  off  the  fire,"  grinned  Chet,  as  he  and  Phil 


212  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

carefully  set  the  precious  pot  down  and  the  crowd 
pressed  to  peep  into  it.  "See  it  steam?" 

"Did  Mr.  Dan  take  it  that  way?" 

"It  war  bilin',"  informed  Grizzly  Dan,  much  elated 
at  the  attention  being  bestowed  upon  him. 

"It  certainly  smells  tempting,"  remarked  the  Pro- 
fessor, sniffing  as  if  suddenly  aroused  to  the  situation. 

"Wait.  We'll  get  some  plates  for  you,  anyway/' 
offered  Dick.  And  he  directed:  "They're  in  that 
right-hand  pannier,  Fat.  Spoons  and  forks,  too." 

"Won't  yez  join  us?"  politely  queried  Flapjack  Jim. 

"No,  thank  you.  We've  had  breakfast.  How 
about  coffee?  Here's  some  cold  coffee  we  brought 
along.  Shall  we  heat  it  up?" 

"No  time,  thank  'ee,"  asserted  Grizzly  Dan.  "Soon 
as  we  can  fill  meat-bags  we  must  be  movin'."  He 
nimbly  climbed  the  little  ridge  and  peered  over. 
"Yep;  jest  as  I  thought.  Those  thar  hostiles  air 
breakin'  camp,  by  reason  o'  my  takin'  that  pot;  an' 
I  'xpec'  they  know  'tain't  ary  use  to  watch  the  hole 
longer.  We  must  beat  'em  to  the  top." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

ASTRAY  IN   CLOUD-LAND 

"JIMINY!"  exclaimed  Chet,  immediately  much 
alarmed.  "Let's  not  eat  breakfast;  let's  go  right  up! 
Come  on!" 

"Ah,  sure,  now,"  wheedled  the  one-legged  little 
Irishman,  concerned,  "aren't  the  rist  of  us  near  fam- 
ished, clane  from  ind  to  ind  ?  'Twould  be  temptin'  the 
good  Providence  to  lave  a  pot  o'  meat  like  this  wan; 
an'  the  'asiest  way  to  carry  it  be  to  dishtribute  the  con- 
tints  amongst  us." 

"Fust  eat,  then  go,"  directed  Grizzly  Dan,  returned. 
"Empty  meat-bag  can't  carry  full  pot,  but  full  meat- 
bag  can  carry  empty  pot.  Wagh !" 

So  saying  he  grabbed  a  tin  dish  and  spoon  and 
began  hurriedly  to  ladle  out  the  stew. 

"That's  right,"  said  Dick.  "Fall  to,  you  people. 
Here  are  dishes.  We'll  help  serve." 

He  passed  a  plateful  to  Cherry  and  Molly;  the  Pro- 
fessor likewise  was  served,  by  Jinks;  the  boys  and 
Flapjack  Jim  served  themselves. 

"We  won't  try  to  get  the  animals  or  our  camp 
stuff?"  hazarded  Phil,  busily  munching. 

"No  time,"  mumbled  Grizzly  Dan.     "Later." 

"Good-by  to  our  claim,  and  those  elk  horns,  then," 
said  Chet.  "But  I  don't  care." 

"We  can  outfit  you  with  grub  and  bedding  and 

213 


214  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

stuff;  and  I  guess  we  can  spare  you  a  burro,  to  pack 
it,"  proffered  Dick.  "Can't  we,  Professor?" 

"By  all  means,"  endorsed  the  Professor.  "What- 
ever we  have  is  theirs." 

"Open  up  the  packs,  fellows,  and  overhaul  'em," 
bade  Dick.  "Make  a  new  pack,  for  three.  You've 
your  own  stuff,  enough,  haven't  you?"  he  asked  of 
Flapjack  Jim. 

"I  have,"  nodded  Flapjack  Jim.  "Enough  for  me 
an'  for  anywan  else  as  long  as  it  lasts." 

"A  pack  for  three!"  cried  Cherry.  "But  aren't  we 
going?" 

"Oh,  are  you?"  uttered  Chet  and  Phil,  surprised. 

"No,"  answered  Grizzly  Dan,  scraping  his  plate — 
emptied  for  the  third  time.  "It  air  a  long  trail;  no 
place  for  young  squaws." 

"I  have  no  intention  of  letting  them  go,"  announced 
the  Professor. 

"But  we  aren't  squaws,"  retorted  Cherry.  "We 
told  you  that  last  summer,  Mr.  Dan.  And  we  want 
to  help  find  the  Trapper's  Mine ;  don't  we,  Molly  ?" 

"It  would  be  such  a  romantic  quest,"  declared 
Molly,  her  pensive  oval  face  flushing  at  the  delightful 
picture. 

"How  about  this  assortment?  It  will  help  you  out, 
won't  it?"  queried  Dick  of  old  Dan  and  the  boys. 

"Wagh!"  approved  Grizzly  Dan,  slowly  champing 
as  he  surveyed.  Through  his  hairy  countenance  he 
fairly  beamed,  but  with  much  dignity  he  shook  Dick's 
hand.  "Help?  It'll  help  powerful,  'specially  the 
beddin'.  Reckon  we  mought  kill  meat  enough 


ASTRAY  IN  CLOUD-LAND  215 

(though  coffee  or  tea  air  tremendous  tasty  to  an  old 
man  like  me),  but  one  man's  beddin'  would  be  power- 
ful scant  for  four,  up  on  this  hyar  mountain." 

"Yes,  b'  jabers,  even  if  wan  of  us  could  shtick 
a  leg  outside  an'  save  space,"  cackled  the  little  man, 
merrily.  "But  now  we  be  well  fixed,  an'  thanks  to 
yez." 

"We  shore  are,"  said  Phil  and  Chet,  heartily. 
"Much  obliged." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  replied  Dick.  "We'll  be  start- 
ing back  home,  to-day  or  to-morrow,  and  we've  got 
more  stuff  than  we  need." 

One  of  the  burros  was  packed,  Chet  and  Phil  lend- 
ing a  hand  whenever  practicable. 

"You  be  a  scientific  man,"  they  heard  Flapjack  Jim 
say  to  the  Professor.  "What  do  ye  think  o'  this  bit 
o'  float,  may  I  ask?"  It  was  a  piece  of  the  bricky 
rock,  token  (according  to  belief)  of  the  rich  outcrop 
above. 

The  Professor  turned  it  about,  wet  it  with  his 
tongue,  weighed  it  in  his  hand,  and  examined  it  with 
a  pocket  microscope.  The  boys  suspended  operations, 
to  await  the  opinion. 

"That,"  pronounced  the  Professor,  at  last,  "is  a 
red  oxide  of  iron,  and,  I  suspect,  very  richly  laden 
with  gold.  As  a  free-milling  ore,  in  any  quantity, 
it  would  be  a  bonanza." 

"Well,"  sedately  informed  the  little  Irishman, 
"that's  our  mine,  I'm  thinkin'.  Do  yez  all  wonder 
we  be  in  sich  a  hurry?" 

"Hardly!"  agreed  Bob,  the  other  school-of-mines 


2i6  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

senior,  as  the  float  passed  rapidly  from  hand  to  hand. 
"Ore  like  that  can  be  taken  out  in  sacks,  and  washed 
in  sluices,  or  put  right  through  the  mill  and  separated. 
Values  ought  to  run  well  up  into  the  thousands, 
oughtn't  they,  Professor?" 

"As  high  as  ten  thousand  dollars  to  the  ton,  per- 
haps," responded  the  Professor. 

"Whew!"  whistled  Dick.  "You  can  afford  to  let 
your  petrified  forest  claim  wait  awhile,"  he  said  to 
Phil. 

"Ten  thousand  dollars  to  the  ton,"  repeated  the  Pro- 
fessor. "But — "  and  he  spoke  impressively,  "these 
are  surface  indications.  Don't  build  your  hopes  too 
high." 

"Faith,"  laughed  Flapjack  Jim,  "if  these  be  the 
grass-roots  indications,  when  we  go  deeper  mebbe  we'll 
shtrike  it  richer  shtill!  Who  knows?" 

"Nobody,"  admitted  the  Professor,  promptly.  "The 
prospector  always  expects  to  'strike  it  richer  still.' 
That's  the  trouble." 

"Right  you  be,"  laughed  Flapjack  Jim.  "Haven't 
I  been  expectin'  for  fifty  years?  Now  I  fale  in  my 
bones  that  we're  close  on  the  thrack  o'  the  biggest 
bonanza  iver  found.  Hooray  an'  hooroo!  Here  be 
the  float  to  prove  it;  an'  a  map  to  go  by,  sich  as  it  is. 
But  the  mine  be  there!" 

"Ketch  up,  ketch  up!"  ordered  Grizzly  Dan. 
"Everything  ready.  Time  we  war  movin'.  Adios  to 
'ee  all,  an'  thank  'ee." 

He  started  the  borrowed  burro. 

"We're    off,"     bubbled     Flapjack    Jim.     "Come, 


ASTRAY  IN  CLOUD-LAND  217 

Brownie,  Would  ye  let  that  other  crather  beat  ye? 
Good-by,"  he  called  gaily.  "When  we  open  up  the 
bonanza  we'll  be  rememberin'  yez  all.  An'  soon  we'll 
invite  yez  to  a  grand  dinner,  an'  serve  flapjacks  on 
goulden  plates,  b'  gorry!" 

"Yes,  you'll  be  in  on  this,"  amidst  the  leave-taking 
asserted  Phil,  for  Flapjack  Jim's  enthusiasm  was  con- 
tagious. "You've  grub-staked  us." 

"It'll  be  Medicine  Elk  Mine  Number  Two,"  added 
Chet.  "We'll  reserve  Number  One  till  we  have  time 
to  find  it  again.  Maybe  we  won't  want  it." 

"Adios,"  and  "Good  luck,"  and  "So  long,"  and 
"Goodby,"  responded  everybody. 

"1  wish  we  were  going,"  pouted  Cherry.  "We 
don't  go  anywhere!"  Which,  to  tell  the  truth,  was 
(as  the  present  location  itself  would  indicate)  a  very 
exaggerated  statement. 

So  they  were  off  again,  upon  the  gold-seeker's  trail : 
Phil  and  Chet,  of  the  Bar  B  cow-range  and  the  Circle 
K  sheep  range  and  the  white  Injun  camp  in  the  Old 
Four-Toes  region;  Grizzly  Dan,  the  venerable  moun- 
tain man  and  trapper;  Flapjack  Jim,  the  one-legged 
prospector  and  merry  Irishman;  Brownie,  his  com- 
panionable burro;  the  borrowed  burro;  and  the 
faithful  Bonita  and  her  family. 

Grizzly  Dan,  driving  the  burrowed  burro,  led; 
Flapjack  Jim,  driving  Brownie,  followed;  behind 
trudged  Chet  and  Phil,  with  the  five  dogs  soberly 
stringing  in  the  rear  of  all. 

Glancing  back  to  wave,  Phil  saw  that  the  school-of- 
mines  party  were  making  ready  to  descend  the  moun- 


218  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

tain,  for  their  camp.  Cherry  and  Molly,  gazing  after 
the  treasure  hunters,  wildly  flourished  their  handker- 
chiefs at  him,  and  he  signaled  reply.  He  rather 
wished  that  they  had  come.  They  were  trumps,  for 
girls. 

"Coin*  to  get  in  more  trouble,  if  we  don't  watch 
sharp/'  called  Grizzly  Dan.  "The  mountain's  medi- 
cine air  strong  agin'  us,  still." 

"Mebbe  it's  only  a  thin,  shmall  layer,  an'  we'll  pass 
right  through  it  an'  see  the  white  cross  o'  the  mine 
shinin'  bright  an'  beautiful  ahead,"  cheerily  claimed 
the  little  Irishman. 

The  sun  was  well  up,  streaming  warm  across  the 
snowy  incline.  The  snow  was  not  deep,  the  incline 
was  not  steep  but  steady;  behind,  stretched  wide 
and  far,  below  snow  line,  the  reddish  base,  to- 
ward which  the  school-of -mines  party  now  were  rap- 
idly descending.  Beyond  the  base  outreached  the 
rugged  Lost  Park,  watched  over  by  Warrior  Peak  in 
the  distance.  But  before,  whither  they  themselves 
were  making,  the  way  was  cut  short  by  a  curtain  of 
motionless  cloud. 

"Shucks!"  grumbled  Chet.  "Same  cloud-cap  that 
was  here  yesterday.  Must  be  a  big  one." 

"We  can  get  above  it,  if  we  keep  going." 

"Can  if  it  doesn't  reach  clear  beyond  the  tip." 

Now  a  rifle  shot  rang  thinly,  as  if  from  afar.  The 
march  briefly  paused,  listening;  and  proceeding  on, 
Grizzly  Dan  chuckled. 

"Wagh!  Those  thar  hostiles  air  huntin'  meat,  to 
take  place  o'  what  skedaddled,  pot  an'  all!" 


ASTRAY  IN  CLOUD-LAND  219 

Nobody  made  reply.  By  the  direction  and  the 
sound  of  the  shot,  it  was  evident  that  the  three  rivals 
for  the  Frapp  Mine  were  climbing,  too.  The  march 
must  be  urged  with  vigor,  if  a  party  afoot  would  beat 
a  party  ahorse.  And  how  far  ahead  lay  the  saddle 
where  the  mine  was  marked  on  the  map,  who  might 
tell,  with  this  cloud-cap  intervening? 

The  sun  paled,  and  the  air  grew  chill. 

"Now  we're  getting  into  it,"  said  Chet. 

"Just  like  a  fog,"  commented  Phil.  "Don't  sup- 
pose there's  much  difference,  except  that  clouds  are 
high  and  fogs  are  low." 

"No.  Say,  but  it's  thick!  You  can  hardly  see 
Dan!" 

"Can't  see  where  we  came  in,  either.  The  hole  has 
shut  tight." 

"Close  up,"  called  Grizzly  Dan,  from  the  lead.  His 
voice  was  flat  and  muffled.  "Snow's  quittin',  an'  if 
you  lose  the  trail  in  this  hyar  mix-up  you're  gone  bea- 
ver." 

"Right,"  panted  Flapjack  Jim.  "Sure,  an'  seems 
to  me  if  it  ain't  wan  thing  it's  another,  on  this  moun- 
tain. Which  way  be  we  goin' — up  or  down,  I  won- 
der?" 

At  this  last  query  Chet  must  snigger.  But  never- 
theless, no  matter  how  simple  might  appear  the  an- 
swer, here  in  this  dense,  clammy  atmosphere  up  and 
down  were  much  alike,  step  by  step,  unless  the  slope 
pitched  steeply. 

The  cloud  layer  enfolded  like  a  clinging  veil  of 
thickly  wet  white  gauze.  Phil  could  dimly  see  Chet, 


220  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

before  him;  Flapjack  Jim  was  only  a  ghost,  Brownie 
was  a  vague  monster,  and  Grizzly  Dan  could  scarce 
be  outlined  at  all.  As  Dan  had  warned,  the  snow  was 
growing  patchy,  as  if  soon  to  cease;  but  upon  snow 
and  sod  and  gravel  alike  footsteps  were  strangely 
subdued.  To  Phil  it  seemed  that  they  were  en- 
chanted, moving  through  an  enchanted  region,  as  in 
a  dream. 

"Ought  to  have  a  compass,"  he  said,  as  through 
the  confusing  murk  they  stubbornly  toiled  on.  "No 
sabe  direction,  any  more." 

"This  mountain  can  make  more  kinds  of  bad  medi- 
cine than  I  ever  heard  of,"  declared  Chet,  crossly. 
"Wagh!  Now  no  sabe  direction,  no  sabe  north, 
south,  east,  west,  up,  down;  no  sabe  anything!" 

"Reckon  Charley  Pow-wow  knew  what  he  was 
talking  about,  then.  He  warned  us." 

"Oh,  lavin'  your  home  an'  lavin'  your  wife — 
Ain't  it  a  tough  wan,  the  prospector's  life?" 

sang  Flapjack  Jim,  maintaining  his  spirits.  "Ain't 
it,  Brownie!" 

Grizzly  Dan  had  halted.  As  they  drew  in  upon 
him,  his  tall,  spare  figure,  leaning  upon  his  long  flint- 
lock rifle,  became  clearer.  His  hatbrim  and  his 
shaggy  hair  and  whiskers  and  the  fringes  of  his  buck- 
skins were  dripping  moisture. 

"Wall,"  he  said,  "hyar's  a  chile  who's  nigh  lost,  he 
air.  This  air  wuss'n  that  cave,  'cept  it's  on  top  o' 
ground  'stead  o'  under.  But  thar  we  had  a  tunnel  to 
follow ;  hyar  we've  got  nothin'.  Fust  thing  we  know, 


ASTRAY  IN  CLOUD-LAND  221 

we'll  be  walkin'  circles — an'  we  won't  know  that,  'less 
we're  lucky  'nough  to  see  when  we  cross  our  own 
tracks." 

"Mebbe,  then,  we'd  better  wait  till  the  fog  lifts," 
proposed  Flapjack  Jim. 

Grizzly  Dan  scratched  his  head. 

"It's  a  medicine  fog,  made  by  this  'ere  mountain," 
he  murmured  dubiously.  "Dunno  as  I  can  do  much, 
but  I'll  try." 

They  were  gathered  upon  a  level  spot,  by  the  fog 
rendered  exactly  like  other  spots ;  for  the  monotonous 
atmosphere  concealed  all  landmarks.  Now  old  Dan, 
fishing  into  the  breast  of  his  buckskin  coat,  produced 
his  ancient  blackened  pipe  and  his  beaded  sack  of  to- 
bacco. He  filled  his  pipe,  and  with  a  match  lighted 
it,  and  squatting  solemnly  puffed  in  four  directions, 
and  upward,  and  downward.  He  began  to  sway;  and 

he  crooned: 

"Wah  ho,  wah  ho  yah  hee ! 
Tuh  cum  puck  eee-no  wah! 
Wah  ho,  wah  ho  yah  hee! 
Tuh  cum  puck  eee-no  wah!" 

Standing,  as  he  finished  his  song,  he  delivered  quite 
an  address,  in  Indian  tongue,  speaking  to  space  as  if 
haranguing  the  mountain.  And  a  striking  spectacle 
he  was,  the  old  white-haired,  white-bearded  man  in 
trapper  costume,  looming  gaunt  and  picturesque,  like 
a  spirit  of  the  former  West,  while  with  sundry  ges- 
tures he  launched  his  guttural  syllables  into  the  brood- 
ing mist. 


222  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Now  all  sing,"  he  bade,  concluding,  "and  we'll  see 
what  happens. 

"Wah  ho,  wah  ho  yah  hee! 
Tuh  cum  puck  eee-no  wah!" 
And— 

"Wah  ho,  wah  ho  yah  hee! 
Tuh  cum  puck  eee-no  wah!" 

sang  they  all,  Flapjack  Jim,  with  his  brogue,  entering 
into  the  performance  as  solemnly  as  Phil  and  Chet. 
Flatly  issued  the  chant,  quickly  dying  amidst  the 
heavy  atmosphere. 

"That'll  do,"  informed  old  Dan,  tucking  away  his 
pipe.  "We'll  wait  a  bit,  an'  give  our  medicine  a 
chance  to  work.  But  somehow  I  don't  feel  as  if  it 
war  very  strong,  I  don't."  He  stiffened,  and  raised 
his  hand.  "Shht!"  he  cautioned,  intent,  "Hug 
ground." 

Down  they  squatted  instantly;  Grizzly  Dan's  com- 
mand was  imperative.  They  waited,  holding  breath. 
A  faint  noise  was  heard.  Burros  and  dogs  pricked 
their  ears.  Louder  grew  the  noise — a  clattering  and 
a  puffing.  There  it  came:  a  great  spectral  shape, 
looming  through  the  murk.  So  huge  and  menacing 
it  was,  unknown,  indistinct,  that  Phil  felt  himself 
cringing,  affrighted. 

Just  as  it  was  upon  them,  and  rifle-locks  clicked 
sharply,  it  halted  short,  with  a  blowy  snort  veered, 
and  went  plunging  off  at  an  angle  into  the  murk 
again. 

"Whew!"  murmured  Chet,  staring. 


ASTRAY  IN  CLOUD-LAND  223 

"May  the  saints  presarve  us !"  stammered  Flapjack 
Jim.  "Is  that  what  we  called  up  with  our  song?" 

"Wagh!"  exclaimed  Grizzly  Dan.  "The  medicine 
elk!  That  war  he." 

Now  occurred  fresh  excitement.  The  spell  was 
broken.  With  sudden  yappy  whines  Bonita  and  her 
pups  dashed  forward,  the  scent  of  the  monster  firing 
their  desire. 

"Bonita!     Here!"  ordered  Phil,  leaping  himself. 

But  he  was  too  late.  The  half-wolf  pups  had 
struck  the  trail.  Led  by  Woof,  away  they  dashed, 
frenzied,  and  the  murk  swallowed  them,  too.  Only 
Bonita  hesitated,  stopped,  and  occasionally  glancing 
over  her  shoulder  came  slowly  back,  to  stand  whim- 
pering. 

"Oh,  thunder!"  gasped  Phil  in  consternation. 
"They'll  be  lost." 

Still  crouching,  Grizzly  Dan  had  run  forward; 
bending  low  he  scrutinized  the  ground.  "That  war 
he — the  big  elk,"  he  confirmed.  "Wagh!  Wounded. 
Hyar's  blood." 

"Somebody  shot  him,  then,"  uttered  Chet.  "Those 
hostiles!  We  heard  the  report.  Remember?  Come 
on!  Let's  get  after  him!" 

They  also  ran  forward,  to  join  old  Dan.  Flapjack 
Jim  stumped  after. 

"Must  get  those  pups  back,  anyway,"  panted  Phil. 

Where  the  great  creature  had  turned,  he  had  dug 
deeply  with  his  hoofs,  leaving  signs  unmistakable  that 
an  elk  he  was.  And  other  sign  had  he  left;  namely, 
a  spatter  of  bright  red — the  red  of  fresh  blood. 


224  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Come  on,  quick!"  urged  Chet,  his  own  blood 
aflame. 

"No,"  countermanded  old  Dan.  "Let  him  go.  Let 
pups  go.  They'll  take  keer  o'  themselves.  'Twar 
time  they  war  off  to  the  wilds.  Wolf  to  wolf  air  the 
way  with  sech  critters,  an'  their  breed  calls.  'Tain't 
our  trail.  Our  trail  air  the  top  o'  the  mountain,  quick 
as  ever  we  can  get  thar." 

"Right  you  shpake,"  agreed  Flapjack  Jim.  "Hist, 
now!  Do  I  hear  somethin'  else?" 

"Ugh!"  grunted  old  Dan.  "Yes.  Make  below. 
Critters,  too.  Cache  ourselves.  Folks  on  trail,  I 
reckon." 

He  scurried.  Scurried  all,  hastily  hauling  the  bur- 
ros. Again,  in  the  fog,  they  crouched,  breathless. 
And  again  was  heard,  increasing  as  it  neared,  a  clatter 
and  a  puffing.  Shapes,  unformed,  wraithlike,  loomed 
amidst  the  enshrouding  mist.  Voices  spoke. 

"Where'd  the  beast  go?" 

"Are  you  on  the  trail,  Jack?" 

"Think  so.     Yep." 

Chet  clutched  Phil  significantly.  As  to  these  appari- 
tions there  was  no  mistake,  either. 

"Gosh,  but  he's  a  big  one." 

"If  it  wasn't  for  this  bloomin'  fog,  now." 

"Well,  you  hit  him,  anyway.  We'll  follow  along, 
an*  if  he  lays  down  he's  ourn,  sure." 

One  after  another,  in  single  file,  three  mounted  men 
and  four  led  animals,  they  passed  by,  obscure  in  the 
white  dimness.  They  overrode  the  turn  in  the  trail, 
for  they  continued  straight  on,  until  they  vanished. 


ASTRAY  IN  CLOUD-LAND  225 

Creak  of  saddle  and  scrape  of  hoof  died  away,  and 
silence  once  more  ensued. 

"Thar!"  grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "I  saw  my  old 
mule,  all  right." 

"They  were  leading  our  horses,  too,  and  riding 
your  pony,"  announced  Phil. 

"The  dirty  villains !"  berated  Flapjack  Jim. 

"Well,  we  can  trail  them,  anyway,"  declared  Chet, 
furiously;  "and  get  the  hawsses  back,  and  Sally,  and 
our  camp  stuff." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

AT   LAST   ABOVE   THE    CLOUDS 

"No,"  again  decided  old  Dan.  "This  chile  wants 
his  mule  an'  pony  as  bad  as  anybody,  but  he  air  still 
o'  the  one  mind,  an'  his  moccasins  are  p'intin'  for  the 
top." 

"Sure,  boys.  Now's  our  chance,  whilst  those 
shpalpeens  be  off  on  their  wild-goose  chase,"  sup- 
ported Flapjack  Jim. 

"W-well,"  yielded  Chet,  grudgingly;  for  he  was 
stubborn,  was  Chet.  "But  after  we  locate  that  mine 
I'm  going  to  get  those  hawsses.  The  pups  are  gone, 
I  reckon,  but  those  are  good  hawsses." 

"They  shore  are,"  chimed  in  Phil.  "And  maybe 
we  can  find  the  pups,  too." 

"O'  course,"  soothed  Jim.  "Only,  we  can't  follow 
all  trails  at  wance,  yez  know.  An'  the  mine  be  the 
grand  thing,  fust." 

"Only  question  air,  which  way  be  top  an'  which  be 
bottom,"  mused  Grizzly  Dan.  "Frightened  critter 
runs  uphill,  usu'ly.  Wall,  thar  the  tracks  bend.  Let's 
take  that  direction,  an'  hope  our  medicine  air  strong 
to  read  the  sign." 

So,  driving  Brownie  and  the  borrowed  burro,  with 
Bonita  following,  they  resumed  their  march.  Anon 

226 


AT  LAST  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS       227 

Bonita  whimpered,  peering  aside  into  the  fog,  search- 
ing for  her  family. 

The  elk  tracks  had  entered  at  a  tangent ;  and  guided 
by  the  mighty  leap  which  changed  the  direction  to  a 
greater  tangent,  old  Dan  led  forth,  treading  long  and 
stoically  over  the  undulating  gravelly  surface.  Thick 
and  confusing  teemed  about  them  the  vast  stratum  of 
cloud;  their  clothing  hung  limp  with  the  moisture; 
underfoot  gravel  and  rock  and  sod  lay  dully  wet;  the 
snow  patches  were  un frequent;  beyond  a  radius  of  ten 
or  fifteen  feet  was  only  that  blank  white  wall,  ever  the 
same. 

As  they  plodded  it  seemed  to  Phil  that  indeed  they 
were  ascending,  that  the  climbs  they  made  were  of 
more  extent  than  the  descents.  Chet  pointed  aside; 
he  saw  the  fresh  red  spatter  and  a  hoof -print  of  the 
fleeing  elk.  The  party  were  paralleling  his  trail,  after 
all;  but  whether  by  accident  or  intent,  nobody  asked 
or  said.  However,  Grizzly  Dan  might  be  depended 
upon  to  do  the  wisest  thing. 

On  and  on  they  marched,  without  speaking  a  word. 
The  silence  around  about  seemed  to  enjoin  silence 
upon  them  also;  the  constant  fog  weighed  upon  their 
spirits,  and  even  the  merry  little  Irishman  was  sober. 
This  damp,  clammy  whiteness  encompassing  like  the 
hollow  of  a  ghostly  hand  was  more  depressing  than 
had  been  the  depths  of  the  tunnels.  Surely,  it  was 
a  mountain  with  a  variety  of  medicine  spells  at  its 
command. 

Hours  may  have  passed,  for  there  was  no  method 
of  measuring  time,  when  again  Grizzly  Dan  came 


228  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

to  a  full  stop;  and  closing  in  on  him,  stopped 
all. 

"Stand  still,  now/'  he  bade,  low  and  curt.  "Wait. 
Somebody's  followin'.  This  chile  feels" 

So  they  stood,  waiting, — a  forlorn  little  company. 
The  burros  wheezed. 

Listening  hard,  Phil  could  hear  nothing  except 
their  own  breathing.  Then,  on  a  sudden,  he  thought 
that  he  did  hear  something,  besides — a  muffled  thud, 
a  soft  clink;  and  as  the  heads  of  his  companions  like- 
wise turned,  catching  the  sounds,  with  them  he  stared 
behind. 

In  their  wake  he  made  out  another  wraith,  vague 
and  tenuous  and  gigantic,  as  if  evolving  from  fog  and 
earth.  It  loomed  alone,  lurking  on  their  trail. 
Warned  of  their  presence,  it  too  had  halted. 

"Look  at  it !"  whispered  Chet,  shakily. 

The  suspense  became  strained. 

"Who's  thar?"  demanded  old  Dan.  Sally,  his  long 
rifle,  rose  to  his  shoulder.  Phil  raised  his  carbine, 
Chet  his  rifle.  "Speak,  now,  or  we'll  shoot." 

"If  ye  be  really  a  ghost,  say  so,  an'  we'll  save 
powhder  an'  lead,"  quavered  Flapjack  Jim. 

"Friend,"  answered  a  human  voice;  and  the  form 
approached. 

Ready,  still  they  waited.  The  form  took  more  de- 
finite shape;  the  mist  parted  before  it;  and  gradually 
they  made  out  a  man  on  horseback. 

"Wagh!"  grunted  old  Dan,  relieved,  lowering 
Sally. 

It  was  Charley  Pow-wow,  the  educated  Ute. 


AT  LAST  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS       229 

"Faith,"  addressed  Flapjack  Jim,  "why  didn't  ye 
say  so  before  we  saw  ye?  We  thought  ye  was  a 
spook." 

"Why,  hello,  Charley,"  greeted  the  two  boys,  as 
relieved  as  old  Dan. 

"How  do  you  do?"  responded  Charley.  Dank  and 
somber  he  rested  on  his  dank  pony,  and  surveyed 
them.  "Are  you  following  that  elk?" 

"No,"  said  old  Dan.  "We're  tryin  to  get  out  o' 
this  hyar  pesky  cloud." 

"Bueno,"  uttered  Charley. 

"No  bueno,"  denied  old  Dan,  crossly.  "Muy  malo 
(very  bad)." 

"I  mean,  it  is  good  that  you  are  not  chasing  that 
elk,"  explained  Charley.  "He  is  the  big  medicine  elk. 
Some  mean  whites  have  wounded  him.  They  shall 
suffer  for  it." 

"Where  are  Tony  and  Francisco,  Charley?"  asked 
Phil. 

"They  are  trailing  those  mean  whites — three  of 
them.  Since  the  trail  forked  I  have  been  trailing  you. 
I  did  not  know  who  you  were.  Where  are  your 
horses?" 

"Those  same  whites  stole  'em,"  informed  Grizzly 
Dan. 

"Yes.  We  saw  many  horse  tracks,"  affirmed 
Charley.  "Too  many.  Where  do  you  want  to 


go?' 


"To  the  top  o'  the  mountain." 

"Then  you  do  not  want  your  horses?" 

"Yes,  of  course  we  do,"  corrected  Chet.     "But  we 


23o  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

want  to  beat  those  mean  whites  up.  They're  after 
our  mine." 

"It  is  not  your  mine.  It  is  nobody's  mine.  And 
this  is  a  medicine  mountain.  I  told  you  you  would 
have  much  trouble." 

"Well,  we  have,"  blurted  Chet.  "Anyway,  we 
didn't  shoot  that  elk.  Phil  and  I  had  a  good  chance 
to,  but  we  let  him  go.  And  we  all  got  lost  in  some 
tunnels  for  it." 

"He  showed  us  that  wonder  forest,  though,"  re- 
minded Phil.  "And  afterward  we  rescued  the  Pro- 
fessor and  the  girls." 

"That  is  well,"  nodded  Charley.  "He  is  a  good 
elk.  Those  mean  whites  made  a  big  mistake  when 
they  shot  him.  His  medicine  must  have  been  weak. 
At  least,  that  is  what  my  people  would  say.  I  do  not 
know." 

"I  tell  'ee,  drat  yon  elk,"  interrupted  old  Dan,  im- 
patient. "All  we  want  air  to  get  to  'top  o'  mountain 
'fore  those  hostiles  do.  Can't  stand  hyar  talkin'.  Do 
'ee  s'pose  we  air  packin'  moccasins  for  fun,  whilst 
other  folks  ride  our  bosses?" 

"The  top  of  the  mountain  is  not  far,"  mused 
Charley.  "It  will  be  better  that  you  have  this  mine 
than  that  those  mean  whites  have  it." 

"Which  way  is  the  top,  then,  Charley?"  invited 
Phil.  "We're  plumb  lost  in  this  fog.  They're  ahorse 
and  we're  afoot,  and  they'll  beat  us  sure." 

"I  will  tell  you,"  proffered  Charley,  abruptly.  "I 
know  all  this  mountain.  And  I  will  get  your  horses 
for  you.  You  must  head  more  to  the  right,  and 


AT  LAST  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS       231 

keep  straight  on.  Pretty  soon  you  will  come  to  a 
draw,  and  if  you  follow  up  this  draw  you  will  come 
out  above  the  clouds,  and  you  will  see  the  top  of  the 
mountain  and  the  cross,  right  above  you.  I  will  meet 
you  with  the  horses." 

"An'  my  old  mule,"  added  Grizzly  Dan. 

"Yes.  I  know,"  nodded  Charley,  wisely.  "I  know 
them  all." 

"Oh,  will  you,  Charley?"  exclaimed  Chet  and  Phil, 
grateful. 

"And  if  you  find  any  of  the  pups,  bring  them  too, 
please,"  enjoined  Phil.  "The  four  of  them  broke 
away  on  the  elk  trail.  We  couldn't  stop  'em.  They're 
half  wolf.  Guess  they're  lost." 

"They  will  join  the  black  wolf  pack,"  asserted 
Charley.  "They  will  never  come  back." 

"Oh,  shucks !"  bemoaned  Phil. 

"Adios.  We'll  be  lookin'  for  'ee,"  spoke  old  Dan, 
moving  forward. 

"Adios." 

"Adios,  adios." 

Turning  his  pony  aside,  away  at  a  trot  fearlessly 
rode  Charley  the  Ute,  unhesitating  as  if  he  could  see 
in  the  fog  as  a  cat  sees  in  the  dark. 

"Off  to  the  right  more,  he  said,  did  he?"  mumbled 
old  Dan.  "Wall,  he  ought  to  know." 

"Hope  he  does  get  the  horses  and  mule,"  voiced 
Phil. 

"He  will,"  assured  Chet.  "In  this  fog?  Of  course 
he  will.  Those  hostiles  won't  stand  any  show  at  all, 
with  three  Injuns  scouting  on  their  trail." 


232  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Hooray!"  cheered  Flapjack  Jim.  "Did  ye  hear 
him,  Brownie?  B'  gorry,  an'  we'll  bate  'em  to  the 
top,  after  all.  An'  ye'll  ate  ye's  flapjacks  off'n  a 
goulden  platter!" 

"Hee-haw!"  brayed  Brownie,  halting  long  enough 
to  do  so. 

"Gwan  with  ye/'  reproved  her  master.  "Save  your 
swate  song  till  we  be  out  o'  the  damp.  'Tis  bad  for 
the  throat  o'  ye." 

They  had  turned  off  from  the  elk  trail  marked  by 
occasional  spatter  of  blood.  At  a  sharp  angle  with  it 
they  traveled  for  half  an  hour  or  more  in  the  new 
direction.  Then — 

"We're  in  the  draw,  I  reckon,"  asserted  Chet. 
"Good!" 

As  far  as  could  be  distinguished  amidst  the  closely 
pressing  mist  they  had  entered  a  shallow  dip  that  with 
gradual  ascent  led  away,  as  if  straight  up  the  moun- 
tain. Grizzly  Dan  spoke  no  word,  but  he  persistently 
stuck  to  the  guidance  of  the  draw,  which  was  indica- 
tion that  he  also  believed  in  it. 

So  they  plodded  on,  upon  another  long,  long 
stretch;  ghosts  they  seemed,  in  a  lifeless,  ghostly 
country. 

"Isn't  it  gettin'  lighter  ahead  there?"  on  a  sudden 
exclaimed  Flapjack  Jim. 

So  unexpectedly  came  the  change,  that  scarcely  had 
he  spoken  when  they  burst,  as  it  were,  from  the 
obscurity,  and  emerged  into  the  full  brightness  of 
day! 

"Wagh!"  cried  old  Dan. 


AT  LAST  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS       233 

Cheered  Jim,  and  next  Chet;  and  looking  back  as 
he  stepped  forth  Phil  saw  the  black  head  and  body 
of  the  dejected  Bonita  issuing  as  from  a  white  ocean. 

Hurrah!  Here  they  were,  at  last.  The  yellow  of 
the  sunshine,  the  red  of  the  rocks,  and  the  blue  of  the 
sky  were  dazzling,  for  a  moment;  just  below,  at  their 
very  feet,  lay  the  vast  stratum  of  cloud,  completely 
shutting  them  off;  old  Dan  again  exclaimed,  and 
pointed — and  there,  apparently  close  above,  a  little 
to  one  side,  gleamed  the  white  cross  limned  against 
the  middle  peak  of  the  triple-crowned  Red  Chief. 

The  way  was  clear. 

"Now  if  we  could  only  see  those  'ere  Injuns  with 
the  critters,"  said  Grizzly  Dan,  peering  across  the 
slope. 

"Isn't  that  they?  Look!"  directed  Phil,  his  eyes 
riveted  upon  figures,  small  and  black,  five  hundred 
yards  to  the  right,  rising  above  the  cloud-layer  sur- 
face. 

It  was.  In  number  they  might  have  been  the 
hostiles,  for  they  were  three,  mounted,  leading  several 
animals.  But  as  they  cleared  the  fog,  by  their  poise 
it  could  be  told  that  Charley  and  his  two  boy  com- 
panions they  must  be. 

"Praise  to  the  saints!"  fervently  ejaculated  Flap- 
jack Jim.  "Sure  our  luck  has  changed.  Hadn't  we 
better  be  matin'  'em?" 

Grizzly  Dan  had  already  started.  The  others  fol- 
lowed, and  the  two  parties  steadily  approached  one 
another. 

"They  got  the  four  horses  and  the  mule,  all  right," 


234  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

jubilated  Chet.  "I  knew  they  would.  Golly,  but  I'll 
be  mighty  glad  to  have  that  old  Medicine  Eye  again. 
This  chile's  feet  don't  savvy  walking." 

Phil's  eyes  eagerly  sought  out  Pepper;  and  Pepper 
it  was.  He  and  Medicine  Eye  were  saddled  and  ap- 
parently as  good  as  ever.  So  was  the  spotted  pony. 
The  dun  mule  bore  a  pack.  So  did  Cotton-tail,  with 
the  elk  horns  atop. 

Jutting  forward  her  rabbity  ears,  Brownie  the 
burro,  burying  all  animosities,  "hee-hawed"  genuine 
greeting. 

As  the  two  parties  came  together,  Charley's  broad, 
swart  face  flashed  a  gratified  grin. 

"Thank  'ee,  thank  'ee,"  mumbled  Grizzly  Dan,  as 
he  took  the  bridle  lines  of  his  pony.  "The  varmints ! 
Thought  to  make  us  wear  holes  in  our  moccasins,  did 
they?  Wagh!  How,  kola  (how  are  you,  friend)?" 
he  addressed,  with  almost  childish  glee  slapping  the 
shoulder  of  the  spotted  pony.  And — "Wall,  old  gal  ?" 
he  chuckled,  rubbing  the  nose  of  his  grizzled  dun 
mule.  He  walked  around  her,  inspecting  the  pack. 

The  two  Indian  boys,  Tony  and  Francisco,  sat 
proud  and  stoical  (stoical  save  for  a  flash  in  the  eyes 
which  matched  the  flash  of  Charley's  grin). 

"Much  obliged,"  said  Phil  and  Chet,  taking  the 
lines  of  Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye.  "Hello,  old  fel- 
lows? Glad  to  see  you.  What'd  you  stampede  for?" 
and  they  petted  their  partners  as  Dan  had  his.  "Hello, 
Cotton-tail?  Are  you  all  here?" 

"How'd  you  get  'em,  Charley?"  they  asked. 

"Very  easy.    The  mean  whites  were  lost,  and  I 


AT  LAST  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS   235 

think  they  were  frightened.  Then  when  we  came 
upon  them  we  got  off  our  horses  and  sneaked  up,  and 
from  behind  rocks,  in  the  fog,  we  told  them  to  leave 
your  animals  and  to  move  on,  pronto.  It  did  not 
matter  that  we  had  bows  and  arrows.  Anyway,  bows 
and  arrows  are  good  weapons,  in  the  fog  or  in  the 
dark.  And  maybe  they  thought  we  were  you.  I  do 
not  know.  But  they  did  as  we  said,  and  they  left 
your  horses  and  the  mule,  and  went  off,  two  men  rid- 
ing and  one  walking." 

"Huh!"  grunted  Chet.  "Now  we've  got  'em  beat. 
That's  the  top  of  the  mountain,  isn't  it?" 

Charley  gloomily  nodded.  "Yes.  But  you  had 
better  not  go,  any  of  you.  I've  been  telling  you  that 
the  mountain  doesn't  want  you,  and  it  doesn't." 

"Faith,  an'  'tain't  a  very  hospitable  mountain,  that's 
the  fact,"  agreed  Flapjack  Jim.  "But  sure,  we're  not 
wans  to  be  discouraged.  When  we're  after  a  thing, 
we  be  willin'  to  earn  it,  an'  like  as  not  the  mountain 
be  only  tistin'  our  mettle." 

"The  top's  near,  now,"  asserted  Phil.  And  indeed 
it  looked  within  a  rifle-shot,  so  clearly  gleamed  the 
white  cross.  "We've  left  the  snow  and  the  cloud  be- 
hind." 

"Lots  may  happen,  still,"  opposed  Charley.  "It  is 
a  medicine  mountain.  You  may  not  find  the  top  near. 
You  may  not  find  it  at  all.  And  if  you  do  find  it, 
you  may  wish  you  hadn't."  He  was  gloomier  than 
ever,  as  he  surveyed  it. 

"Have  you  ever  been  there,  Charley?"  asked  Phil. 

"It  is  forbidden.    Nobody  can  go  up  there.    When 


236  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

they  go  up,  they  do  not  come  down  again,"  said 
Charley. 

"Why,  I  wonder?"  pursued  Phil. 

Charley  did  not  answer.  He  had  changed  from 
white  man  to  red  man;  and  when  in  this  mood  it  was 
useless  to  question  him  upon  Indian  topics. 

"Ketch  up,  ketch  up !"  bade  Grizzly  Dan,  which  was 
trapper  command  for  moving  on.  "This  chile  air 
goin'  to  yon  top,  he  air.  Leastwise,  he  air  goin'  as 
fur  as  empty  meat-bag  '11  let  him.  Hyar,"  and  he 
addressed  Jim;  "swap  packs  to  my  old  mule,  if  you 
want  to,  an'  ride  that  'ere  extra  burro." 

"No,"  laughed  Flapjack  Jim;  "I'm  better  at  walkin'. 
An'  we  be  even  parties,  I'm  thinkin'.  They  be  two 
men  ahorse  an'  wan  afoot,  an'  we  be  three  men  ahorse 
an'  wan  half  afoot." 

"Wall,"  said  Dan.  With  satisfied  grunt  he  swung 
aboard  his  spotted  pony.  "Adios  to  'ee,"  he  bade  to 
Charley  and  the  two  Indian  boys.  "Come  along,  if 
ye  want  to." 

"No,"  replied  Charley,  and  the  two  boys,  his  com- 
panions, hastily  shook  their  heads. 

"Adios,"  bade  Phil  and  Chet,  swinging  aboard 
Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye. 

Led  by  Grizzly  Dan,  the  little  company  was  im- 
mediately in  motion. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE  MEDICINE  ELK  AGAIN 

THE  sun  was  past  noon;  and  by  this  and  by  old 
Dan's  reference  to  "empty  meat-bag,"  Phil  realized 
that  the  hour  was  past  dinner-time,  also.  But  with 
the  goal  so  plainly  in  sight  and  seemingly  so  near,  and 
with  fortune  favoring  at  last,  now  mounted  upon 
Pepper  he  did  not  at  all  object  to  a  forced  march. 

Looking  back,  he  witnessed  Charley  and  the  two 
lads  just  descending  below  cloud  line.  First  one, 
then  another,  was  swallowed,  as  if  they  had  sunk  into 
a  white  sea. 

Up  here,  more  than  two  miles  high,  the  air,  filtered 
by  the  cloud  bank,  and  far  removed  from  all  smoke 
and  dust  of  civilization,  was  marvelously  pure  and 
clear  and  crisp.  Every  object  stood  forth  with  a 
peculiar  brilliance.  The  traces  of  snow  had  dis- 
appeared entirely;  the  sun  shone  warm;  the  red  rocks 
and  soil  were  dry ;  the  pale  blue  sky  was  flawless ;  and 
the  present  was  so  promising  of  success  that  as  he 
trudged  Flapjack  Jim  crooned  a  new  song: 

"There  was  wance  a  little  man  an'  he  had  a  wooden 

leg, 

An*  over  all  the  mountains  did  he  peg,  peg,  peg; 
With  his  burro  an'  his  pick  an'  his   shpade   an*  his 

pan, 
A-sakin'  a  bonanza — sich  a  foolish  little  man!" 

"Yez  see,  I'm  a  poet,"  he  announced  gaily. 

237 


238  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

Driving  the  two  burros,  he  brought  up  the  rear. 
Grizzly  Dan,  followed  by  Betty,  the  wise  old  dun 
pack-mule,  held  the  advance,  with  old  Cotton-tail 
sticking  at  her  heels.  Riding  side  by  side,  Chet  and 
Phil,  Bonita  on  the  flank,  occupied  the  middle.  As 
they  all  proceeded  Grizzly  Dan  glanced  keenly  right 
and  left,  seeking  glimpse  of  the  three  hostiles  who, 
of  course,  also  would  be  pushing  for  the  coveted  top. 
Chet  and  Phil  likewise  constantly  swept  the  slope  with 
their  eyes — and  Phil  was  expectant  of  seeing,  maybe, 
some  sign  of  the  strayed  pups.  He  hated  to  give 
them  up. 

Not  a  moving  figure  showed  upon  the  ruddy  sur- 
face above  the  cloud  line.  All  the  high  expanse,  rising 
like  an  island,  seemed  lonely,  and  they  the  first 
visitors. 

For  a  time  the  travel  was  easy.  The  ground  rose 
steadily  but  evenly,  its  soil  interspersed  with  various 
boulders  and  outcrops  amidst  which  the  animals,  and 
the  trudging  Jim,  deftly  threaded. 

Now  from  the  rear  Flapjack  Jim  called  gladly,  and 
held  up  his  hand,  with  something  in  it.  They  paused 
until  he  overtook  them. 

"The  float,  an'  plinty  of  it!"  he  informed,  showing 
to  them  a  large  piece  of  the  brick-like  rock  that  had 
been  their  lure  below.  "The  ground  be  'most  kivvered 
with  it,  in  shpots.  Which  is  to  say,"  he  corrected, 
"not  all  in  wan  shpot,  I  mane.  But  sure  I  see  it,  ivery 
now  an'  then.  'Tis  an  advantage  to  prospect  afoot. 
Ahorse  yez  miss  a  lot." 

"Good !"  uttered  Phil.  "Reckon  we're  on  the  right 
trail." 


THE  MEDICINE  ELK  AGAIN          239 

"Pieces  must  be  getting  bigger.  That's  heap  sign," 
agreed  Chet. 

"Lookee  thar,"  directed  Grizzly  Dan,  pointing  be- 
fore, as  sitting  in  his  saddle  he  gazed  earnestly.  "Dif- 
ferent kind  o'  sign;  what?  Mought  be  signal  smoke; 
mought  not.  Wagh!" 

In  ascending  they  had  taken  the  customary  diagonal 
course — for  to  force  horse  or  foot  straight  up,  on  a 
long  climb,  is  poor  policy.  A  gap  had  opened.  Framed 
in  it,  so  to  speak,  was  a  hazy,  distant  plume  effect 
which,  as  old  Dan  had  said,  might  be  smoke. 

Phil  and  Chet  simultaneously  exclaimed:  "It's  red, 
though !  It  looks  red !" 

"Sartin  it  does,"  confirmed  old  Dan,  in  puzzled 
manner. 

"Who  iver  heard  o'  rid  shmoke?"  piped  Flapjack 
Jim.  "If  shmoke  it  be,  then  'tis  a  rid  reflection.  Ain't 
all  the  mountain  rid  ?  O'  course.  But  who  be  makin' 
it?  Those  three  men  wouldn't  be  up  there  alriddy, 
unliss  they  had  a  flyin'  machine!" 

"It's  beyond  the  cross,  anyway,"  quoth  Chet. 
"Maybe  it  isn't  smoke.  It's  a  cloud  sticking  up, 
against  the  rocks." 

"No  cloud,"  denied  Grizzly  Dan,  shaking  his  shaggy 
head.  "More  medicine,  o'  some  kind.  If  it'll  let  us 
alone,  we'll  let  it  alone.  We're  aimin'  for  the  cross, 
we  air;  that's  enough." 

He  resumed  the  march.  As  again  they  proceeded, 
one  and  all  they  scrutinized  that  filmy  plume  so  mys- 
teriously hanging  suspended  in  the  clear  air,  over  that 
distant  spot.  It  appeared  to  be  a  thin,  constant  smoke 


24o  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

column — but  red  was  its  tinge :  a  red  brighter  and  more 
vivid  than  that  of  the  rocks,  and  verging  upon  crim- 
son. Such  might  be  smoke  shone  through  by  setting 
or  rising  sun,  or  by  fire;  but  here  the  sun  was  not 
giving  the  hue,  and  the  column  somehow  did  not  seem 
to  upwell  amidst  fire  so  intense  as  to  color  it. 

Another  turn  in  the  course  occurred,  and  the  gap 
closed;  the  crimson  smoke-plume  disappeared,  leaving 
them  wondering. 

The  climb  was  becoming  rougher.  Jagged  rocks 
were  thickly  scattered.  Among  them  the  little  com- 
pany had  to  pick  their  way.  At  this  altitude,  in  the 
fall,  the  sod  was  the  sod  of  spring,  with  fresh  green 
grasses  and  white  and  pink  flowers  growing. 

Presently  the  company  entered  a  long,  wide  alley 
— almost  a  street,  of  some  ruined  city,  enclosed  on 
either  hand  by  broken,  tumbled  walls  eight  and  ten 
feet  high.  The  street  seemed  lifeless  and  deserted; 
and  as  they  slowly  rode  Phil  imagined  that  they  were 
traversing  a  street  of  an  ancient  city  like  Pompeii  or 
Herculaneum,  or  in  the  African  desert. 

Now  and  then  the  white  cross  of  the  peak  looked 
in  upon  them,  from  before.  It  seemed  a  little  nearer, 
but  not  much  so ;  and  Phil  noted  with  misgivings  that 
the  sun  was  all  too  swiftly  sinking  toward  it.  The 
sun  was  beating  them.  Grizzly  Dan  also  must  have 
noted  the  fact,  for  a  grumble  of  impatience  issued 
from  him,  as  he  must  halt  and  swing  from  his  spotted 
pony. 

"Drat  'ee!"  he  scolded,  examining  his  pony's  hoofs. 
"Take  this  time  to  pick  up  a  stun,  will  'ee?" 


THE  MEDICINE  ELK  AGAIN          241 

The  way  was  narrowing;  and  as  if  to  explore  on 
his  own  hook  Chet  forged  gallantly  ahead.  The  others 
waited  for  old  Dan  to  relieve  his  lame  pony  of  the 
stone.  All  the  animals  puffed,  and  Flapjack  Jim 
stood  panting,  braced  on  his  wooden  leg. 

"B'gorry,"  he  remarked,  "if  both  my  legs  were 
wooden,  then  the  feet  o'  me'd  not  be  tired  at  all,  at 
all.  But  I  can  rist  the  wan  by  shtandin'  on  the  other." 

As  Grizzly  Dan  was  mounting  again,  Chet  came 
trotting  back,  wild  with  excitement. 

"The  elk!"  he  panted.  "The  big  medicine  elk! 
He's  lying  down,  just  ahead,  right  in  the  trail.  Come 
on,  quick!" 

"Dead?"  asked  Phil. 

"No.  I  should  say  not.  But  he's  weak;  he  can't 
get  up." 

"Wagh !"  uttered  old  Dan,  interested.  "I  want  to 
know.  Can't  stop  long  to  look  at  elks,  though.  Got 
to  reach  top  'fore  dark." 

Now  led  by  the  eager  Chet  they  hastened,  with  the 
sturdy  little  Irishman  lustily  stumping  at  the  rear. 
The  tumbled  walls  closed  in  rapidly  upon  the  rocky, 
gravel  way.  Chet  pointed. 

"There  he  is!    See  him?    Lying  down." 

Slackening  as  they  approached  and  scanned,  they 
saw  that  the  big  elk  it  was.  Chet  had  made  no  mis- 
take. Here  he  was  crouched,  upon  his  four  legs 
doubled  under  him,  his  nose  touching  the  ground; 
and  with  head  half  turned  he  was  watching  them. 
His  prodigious  horns  up-spread ;  his  eyes  were  bulging 
defiant  and  frightened;  he  snorted  loudly.  Upon 


242  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

his  dark,  tawny  shoulder  was  a  matted  smear  of 
red. 

At  respectful  distance  from  him  they  stopped.  The 
horses,  staring,  sniffed  with  open  nostrils;  even  Betty 
and  the  two  burros  seemed  alarmed,  and  Bonita 
skulked  under  Pepper.  For  prone  as  he  was,  a  huge, 
menacing  figure  appeared  this  giant  elk,  closing  the 
trail. 

"How'd  he  get  in  here?  We  didn't  see  sign  of 
him,"  said  Phil. 

"Came  down  those  side  rocks,  some'eres,"  pro- 
nounced Grizzly  Dan. 

"An'  what  be  we  goin'  to  do  with  him,  then?"  in- 
vited Flapjack  Jim.  "Can  we  get  past,  I  want  to 
know?" 

"Climb  over  him,"  answered  Phil,  for  fun. 

"Faith,  an'  with  wan  toss  of  his  horns  he'd  lift  us 
clear  to  the  top  yonder,"  retorted  Jim. 

"Have  to  shoot  him,  won't  we?"  proposed  Chet. 
"Say,  I'd  like  to  have  those  horns!  They're  bigger 
than  our  pair  he  cast.  When  we  get  'em  we'll  meas- 
ure and  see." 

The  elk  snorted  forbiddingly,  and  shook  his  heavy 
head.  The  horses  trembled. 

"Get  up!"  shouted  Chet,  spurring  Medicine  Eye 
forward  a  few  reluctant  paces.  "Hey,  you !  Get  up ! 
Shoo!"  He  waved  his  hat,  while  holding  ready  his 
rifle.  Fearless  was  Chet;  but  Grizzly  Dan  sternly 
called  him  back. 

"Quit  that!"  he  ordered.  "If  that  thar  critter 
comes  a-chargin'  down  hyar,  he'll  make  a  heap  o' 


THE  MEDICINE  ELK  AGAIN          243 

trouble,  boy.  Don't  'ee  know  chargin'  elk  air  wuss'n 
chargin'  b'ar,  an'  these  air  narrer  quarters  for  a 
fracas?  Quit  it,  I  tell  'ee." 

"Aw,  he  can't  get  up,  anyway,"  asserted  Chet, 
abashed,  and  reining  back.  "We'll  have  to  shoot  him 
where  he  lies,  then." 

"No,  don't  let's  kill  him,"  pleaded  Phil,  with  sud- 
den compassion.  The  elk's  head  had  drooped  again, 
as  if  his  defiance  had  exhausted  him.  There  in  his 
weakness,  an  appealing  sight  he  made.  Yet  he  was 
blocking  the  trail. 

"Mebbe  we  can  shlip  round  him,"  suggested  Flap- 
jack Jim.  "Or  can't  we  climb  out?  'Twould  be 
better  to  lave  him  in  peace  than  to  deshtroy  him,  the 
pore  baste." 

"Mustn't  go  to  killin'  medicine  elk,"  enjoined  old 
Dan.  "Wagh !  An'  hyar's  a  chile  as  hates  to  kill  any- 
thing, 'cept  for  meat,  or  to  put  sufferin'  critter  out  o' 
his  misery.  Now,  if  we  leave  him,  I  reckon  he'll  get 
well.  He's  plumb  tuckered,  that's  what  he  air.  Let's 
try  makin'  circuit  'round  his  hind  end."  And  he 
addressed  the  fallen  monarch.  "Now,  brother,  we 
won't  harm  ye.  We  air  bound  on  to  top  o'  mountain. 
'Twarn't  our  rifles  that  give  you  that  hurt.  No.  I 
am  Vip-po-nah,  the  Lean  Chief,  and  these  are  my 
friends.  We  would  pass,  harming  nothing." 

Having  thus  spoken  with  dignity,  Grizzly  Dan 
started  his  spotted  pony  for  the  one  point  practicable : 
where  the  extended  flank  of  the  elk  almost  touched  the 
right-hand  rock-wall.  Here  was  passage — but  a  very 
slim  passage. 


244  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

However,  fiercely  the  big  elk  raised  his  antlered 
head.  His  eyes  bulged  bloodshot,  he  tossed  his 
mighty  horns,  his  lips  curled  back  in  a  snarl  exposing 
his  tusks,  froth  gathered  upon  them,  and  snorting 
loudly  he  struggled  to  gain  his  feet. 

"Wagh!"  exclaimed  Grizzly  Dan,  much  perturbed, 
as  his  pony  recoiled. 

The  elk  sank  back.  The  spotted  pony  shrank  and 
braced,  declining  to  go  on.  The  other  animals  were 
sharing  in  the  fear.  Plainly,  to  effect  that  narrow 
passage  was  impossible,  as  long  as  the  elk  was  alive 
to  defend  it. 

Grizzly  Dan  must  scratch  his  head,  in  dismay. 

"Wait.  I'll  thry  a  climb  for  yez,"  proffered  Flap- 
jack Jim,  stumping  briskly  along  the  walls.  He 
peeped  into  two  or  three  crevices;  and  he,  too,  must 
scratch  his  head.  "Faith,"  he  said,  "we  might  climb 
out  ourselves,  but  what  would  we  do  with  the  ani- 
miles?  'Twould  be  a  cruel  thing  to  lave  'em  here 
forninst  that  ravin'  baste — though  when  Brownie  an' 
he  met,  sure  I'd  like  to  be  on  hand  to  see  the  fight. 
Brownie  would  ate  him  up,  horns  an5  all." 

"Turn  back,  turn  back,"  uttered  Grizzly  Dan.  "No 
use  wastin'  time.  Time  air  precious." 

He  turned.  They  all  turned;  and  glad  were  the 
horses,  and  Betty  and  the  burros,  to  do  so. 

"He  got  in,"  complained  Chet,  referring  to  the 
elk. 

"Well,  it's  a  lot  easier  to  jump  down  than  to  jump 
up,"  reminded  Phil,  much  relieved  that  they  were  re- 
tiring instead  of  forcing  passage. 


THE  MEDICINE  ELK  AGMN          245 

"Beyant  him  there's  a  beautiful  shpot  to  climb 
out  by,"  announced  Flapjack  Jim.  "Did  yez  see 
it?" 

"After  we  got  past  him  we  wouldn't  need  to  climb 
out,"  retorted  Chet. 

"Right  ye  are,"  agreed  Flapjack  Jim.  "I  hadn't 
thought  o'  that,  entirely." 

So  they  rode  back,  the  way  they  had  come,  and 
they  left  the  big  elk  lying  as  they  had  first  seen  him, 
and  gazing  after.  At  safe  distance  Brownie  paused, 
in  order  to  twist  head  and  deliver  a  most  strenuous, 
ridiculous  "Hee-haw !" 

"Lave  be,  lave  be,  Brownie,"  counseled  her  master. 
"Would  ye  attack  a  poor  disabled  crather?" 

The  elk  was  out  of  sight,  around  a  bend,  and  they 
had  retraced  their  steps  much  farther  than  convenient, 
before  there  was  found  in  the  ruinous  walls  a  break 
through  which  might  clamber  horse,  mule,  and  burro. 
The  delay,  and  the  detour,  seemed  to  have  fairly  de- 
voured time;  for  when  at  last  the  little  company 
emerged  from  the  confines  of  the  ancient  street  into 
the  open  slope,  old  Dan,  about  to  lead  on,  muttered 
impatiently. 

The  sun  was  in  the  second  of  the  two  .saddles  con- 
necting the  three  peaks  of  Red  Chief.  His  yellow 
shine  had  waned  to  pale  lemon ;  in  a  minute  he  would 
be  gone  for  the  night.  Already  the  cross  had  dulled, 
and  shadows  were  lengthening  fast. 

Chet  cried  out  in  dismay.  "We're  never  going  to 
get  there,  are  we?" 

"Don't  believe  so,"  confessed  Phil,  sobered  by  the 


246  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

disappointment.  "We'd  have  got  there,  if  that  elk 
hadn't  held  us  back.  Now — pshaw !" 

"The  lane  we  were  in  was  a  beautiful  short-cut,  but 
here  we  be  adrift  agin,  all  outdoors,  with  the  top  both 
far  an'  near,"  complained  Flapjack  Jim.  "An'  what 
says  the  boss?" 

The  sun  had  sunk.  Grizzly  Dan  halted,  dubiously 
surveying  the  fast  dimming  landscape. 

"Empty  meat-bag,  no  water,  an'  night,"  he  de- 
livered musingly.  "An'  medicine  all  'round  us. 
We'd  better  camp,  soon  as  we  find  a  good  place."  ' 

"Now  I  call  this  pretty  mean!"  accused  Chet. 
"That  elk  did  it  on  purpose.  He  wasn't  hurt  at  all. 
It  was  just  some  more  medicine  work,  to  keep  us  back. 
We  ought  not  to  have  let  him  bluff  us." 

"No  use  talkin'  what  mought  have  been,"  declared 
old  Dan.  "If  he  war  medicine  elk,  we  couldn't  have 
got  past  him;  an'  if  he  warn't  medicine  elk,  we 
couldn't  have  got  past  him  without  killin'  him — which 
ain't  a  human  thing  to  think  of.  Anyway,  hyar  we 
air,  an'  it's  goin'  to  be  a  lean,  dry  camp,  I  reckon,  till 
mornin'.  Wouldn't  risk  climbin'  about  on  a  medicine 
mountain,  at  night — 'specially  a  region  whar  we've 
never  been." 

"Right,"  agreed  Flapjack  Jim.  And  he  sighed.  "I 
guiss  we'll  have  to  wait.  But  with  mornin'  light  'tis 
only  a  short  shtroll,  an'  like  as  not  those  three 
shpalpeens  be  shtill  down  in  the  fog." 

Such  a  cheerful  little  man  was  Flapjack  Jim. 

Grizzly  Dan  was  slowly  scouting  along,  his  eyes, 
under  the  bushy  brows,  sweeping  the  surface  on  either 


THE  MEDICINE  ELK  AGAIN          247 

hand  and  before.  Flanking  him,  Phil  and  Chet  pro- 
ceeded to  do  the  same;  for  the  question  now  was  to 
find  a  camping-spot  before  darkness  settled  down. 

This  high  mountain-side  was  bare  of  aught  save 
rock  and  gravel  and  sparse  sod;  and  it  seemed  that 
about  the  best  to  be  accomplished  was  a  camp  shel- 
tered from  the  breeze.  Old  Dan  appeared  to  have 
determined  thus,  for  again  pausing,  he  repeated: 

"Nary  wood,  nary  water.  'Twill  be  a  lean  camp, 
without  pot.  Wagh!  But  we  can  make  the  best  of 
it.  Fust  likely  place  we  come  to,  we'll  squat." 

"How's  this?"  called  Phil  across.  "Here's  a  place 
between  rocks." 

"Any  grass  about,  for  critters?"  queried  old  Dan. 

"Some." 

He  rode  over,  and  inspected. 

"Off  saddle,"  he  approved,  swinging  stiffly  from  his 
spotted  pony. 

Chet  came.  Flapjack  Jim  stumped  in.  They  all 
fell  to  work  stripping  the  animals.  These,  released, 
greedily  cropped  the  scanty  supply  of  short  grass. 
Even  Brownie  forbore  from  taking  time  to  play  hog. 

"Jiminy,  I'm  dry!"  announced  Chet.  "Wish  we'd 
brought  a  canteen." 

"There'll  be  wather  somewheres  above,"  promised 
the  little  Irishman.  "An'  sure  it'll  taste  all  the  better 
for  the  wait.  Wance  in  a  while  'tis  a  foine  plan  to  go 
thirsty  a  bit,  an'  then  we  appreciate  what  a  blessed 
thing  wather  is." 

The  packs  of  Betty  and  Cotton-tail  had  practically 
been  undisturbed  by  the  three  hostiles;  and  with  that, 


248  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

and  the  packs  on  the  two  burros,  the  camp,  if  sup- 
plied with  wood  and  water,  might  have  been  a  camp 
of  luxury.  Anyway,  there  was  plenty  of  bedding, 
and  some  of  Grizzly  Dan's  inevitable  jerked  meat 
which  was  good  for  the  jaws  if  not  particularly  easy 
for  the  stomach. 

By  the  time  the  beds  had  been  made  down,  and  the 
pangs  of  hunger  soothed  with  the  stoutly  chewed 
"jerky,"  dusk  was  upon  earth  and  stars  in  the  blue- 
black  sky.  Here  in  the  angle  formed  by  a  ledge  and 
several  boulders  the  camp  bade  fair,  except  for  thirst, 
to  pass  a  comfortable  night. 

Grizzly  Dan,  sitting  wrapped  Indian-wise  in  a 
blanket,  was  meditatively  puffing  at  his  short,  dingy 
pipe.  Flapjack  Jim,  also  puffing,  as  he  lay  swathed 
had  uttered  his  first  plaint.  "Faith,"  he  murmured; 
"even  my  ould  wooden  leg  aches." 

Phil  was  condoling  with  Bonita  upon  the  loss  of 
the  pups.  Chet  had  scaled  the  boulders,  to  mark  how 
strayed  the  animals.  And  now  he  excitedly  called  in : 

"I  see  a  camp-fire,  up  on  top.  The  cross  is  oc- 
cupied!" 


CHAPTER    XXI 

UNDER  THE  GREAT  CROSS 

CHET'S  words  spelled  consternation.  To  its  feet 
sprang  the  camp,  and  ran  out  to  various  vantage 
points,  bent  upon  seeing  for  itself.  Phil  joined  Chet 
on  the  rock. 

"Look!"  directed  Chet,  pointing. 

Where  the  cross  had  been,  before  darkness  veiled 
it,  now  down  through  the  black  space  twinkled,  like 
a  low  red  star,  a  small  fire.  By  that,  somebody  was 
encamped  at  the  goal ;  and  who,  unless  the  three  hos- 
tiles? 

For  the  campers  below  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  murmur  disgustedly  and  to  resign  themselves  until 
morning. 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  elk  keeping  us  back  we 
might  have  been  the  first  up,"  asserted  Chet,  wrath- 
ful. "That  was  a  mean  trick,  I  call  it!" 

"Well,"  said  Flapjack  Jim,  as  they  turned  in  for 
bed,  "mebbe  there's  a  r'ason  in  it.  We'll  see." 

"We'll  see  a  heap  o'  things  'fore  'nother  day  air 
done,"  promised  old  Dan.  "This  coon  hasn't  played 
beaver  an'  gone  meat  hungry  an'  swallered  fog  an' 
been  skeered  by  elk  an'  made  dry  camp  without  fire 
for  pot,  all  for  no  thin'.  He  air  bound  for  top  o' 
mountain,  an'  he  air  goin'  to  get  thar.  Wagh !" , 

249 


250  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Bueno!"  applauded  Phil. 

Chet  muttered  appreciation. 

In  old  Dan's  speech  was  something  reassuring — 
something  that  invited  success,  after  all,  and  that 
boded  ill  for  the  opposition. 

Grizzly  Dan  and  Flapjack  Jim  snored  right  through 
the  night;  but  Phil  was  restless  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  Chet,  beside  him  under  the  buffalo  robe  (good 
was  it  to  have  that  prized  robe  again),  tossed  and 
gurgled  more  than  customary.  As  for  Phil,  he 
thought  much  upon  the  fire  at  the  cross,  and  the  dis- 
appointment of  having  been  beaten  in  the  race.  If 
that  had  been  really  a  medicine  elk,  why  had  he  op- 
posed them  and  favored  their  rivals  who  had  wounded 
him?  That  did  not  seem  just.  However,  life  did 
not  always  work  out  according  to  human  ideas  of  the 
just  and  the  unjust;  but,  as  Flapjack  Jim  had  sug- 
gested, "there's  a  r'ason  in  it." 

Now  through  the  still,  dense  night  overhung  by  a 
black  canopy  thickly  set  with  glint  and  sparkle  more 
wonderful  than  that  of  the  magic  forest,  floated  a 
long,  quavering  howl — and  another,  and  another,  and 
others,  uniting  in  a  weird,  not  unmusical  medley,  fitted 
to  these  high,  lonely  places. 

Bonita  stirred  and  whined.     Chet  raised  his  head. 

"Wagh!  Black  wolves.  Trapper's  hounds,"  he 
uttered  drowsily,  and  dropped  back  to  sleep. 

Phil  listened  hard.  He  thought  that  amidst  the 
notes  he  could  distinguish  the  yappy  voices  of  Nig, 
and  Woof,  and  Limpy,  and  Rags.  He  rather  hoped 
so.  It  would  be  better  for  them  to  travel  with  those 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  CROSS          251 

experienced  hunters,  their  kinsfolk,  than  to  essay  the 
trail  and  the  chase  by  themselves.  They  were  still  so 
young  and  so  inexperienced. 

No  elk  whistled  a  challenge  in  reply.  Supposing 
that  the  pack  were  trailing  him — the  wounded  big 
fellow !  That  would  be  bad.  He  was  down  and  help- 
less. Maybe  that  was  why  he  did  not  whistle.  But 
perhaps  he  knew  how  to  take  care  of  himself.  Ani- 
mals in  the  great  open  were  wise,  and  brave;  and 
many  battles  and  escapes  must  be  constantly  occurring. 

Then  Phil  went  to  sleep,  until  morning.  And  the 
wolves  howled  not  again,  and  the  stars  brightly 
twinkled,  and  the  planets  steadily  blazed,  and  the  vast 
darkness  enfolding  the  little  camp  was  disturbed  by 
only  an  occasional  blowy  snort  from  horse  and  mule. 
Far  were  cities  and  watchmen;  but  no  sleepers  ever 
were  safer  than  these  among  the  rocks  here  on  the 
mountain  slope,  under  the  guardian  stars. 

When  Phil  awakened,  his  eyes  opened  to  see  old 
Dan  standing,  just  outside  the  camp,  his  buckskin 
figure  limned  against  a  lightening  east  as  he  peered 
upward  at  the  cross. 

"No  sign  o'  fire  thar  now,"  he  mumbled,  wagging 
his  head.  "Wall,"  he  added,  "later  they  sleep,  better 
for  us."  He  turned.  "Hos-guard  out,"  he  prompted, 
seeing  Phil's  movement.  "No  pot  on  fire,  so  I'll  help 
ye.  Must  make  'arly  start,  an'  be  scoutin'  'long  for 
water,  too." 

One  after  another,  arising,  the  remainder  of  the 
camp  took  a  look  at  the  cross.  Struck  by  the  beams 
of  a  sun  yet  unseen,  it  gleamed  white  and  beckoning 


252  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

and  apparently  untenanted,  for  never  a  trace  of  camp- 
fire  smoke  up-wafted  against  it  or  beside  it.  For  all 
that  showed  by  dawn,  the  alarm  of  the  night  might 
have  been  only  a  dream. 

"Faith,"  commented  Flapjack  Jim,  "I  don't  blame 
'em  for  shlapin'  late ;  with  that  much  more  of  a  climb 
I'd  be  shlapin'  shtill,  my  own  self.  But  up  we  go." 

"Up  we  go,"  affirmed  old  Dan,  nodding  decisively. 
"We're  nearer  top  than  bottom.  We'll  play  game  to 
end,  'fore  we're  licked." 

That  sounded  good.  Breakfast  (dry  and  hasty) 
was  soon  put  away,  the  animals  were  packed,  and  the 
last  stage  of  the  upward  march  was  begun.  On  this, 
the  high  country  above  the  clouds,  the  sun  burst  early 
while  yet  the  lower  country  was  in  dusk.  The  rays 
revealed  all  details  plainly;  but  not  yet  did  the  ex- 
pected camp-smoke  at  the  cross  materialize.  Perhaps, 
reflected  Phil,  this  was  for  the  best;  since  if  they  them- 
selves could  read  any  stir  at  the  top,  the  watchers  there 
could  read  any  stir  at  the  other  end  of  the  line.  So 
let  them  sleep. 

The  march  was  slow;  all  the  animals  seemed  tired. 
The  night's  forage  had  been  scant,  after  a  day's  hard 
work,  and  the  lack  of  water  also  told.  Phil  could 
appreciate  this,  because  his  mouth  was  cottony,  and 
he  longed  constantly  for  a  big  draught  of  wetness.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  could  drink  any  water,  even  if 
it  were  swampy  and  lukewarm. 

However,  nobody  grumbled.  All  plodded  on, 
Bonita  with  her  tongue  out. 

Below  stretched  the  cloud-bank,  gently  heaving  and 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  CROSS  253 

swirling,  and  opening  with  occasional  rifts  through 
which  was  given  brief  glimpse  of  the  earth.  That 
is,  of  what  appeared  to  be  another  earth,  detached, 
underneath.  Above,  gleamed  clear  the  white  cross. 
Midway  between  cloud-bank  and  cross  toiled  the  little 
company,  business-bent,  ever  ascending,  determined  to 
"play  game  to  end." 

Grizzly  Dan,  leading,  bore  off  to  the  left,  where 
a  shallow  dip  would  afford  some  slight  cover.  They 
might  depend  upon  old  Dan  to  pick  the  best  trail. 
He  was  a  mountain  man  and  trapper-scout,  a  white 
Injun!  So  they  all  followed  obediently,  Flapjack  Jim 
pegging  busily  at  the  rear. 

"An'  when  we  reach  the  top,"  volunteered  the 
cheery  Jim,  panting  but  undaunted,  "then  we'll  see 
what's  to  be  done.  Mebbe  there'll  be  room  for  all; 
an'  let's  hope  we'll  get  our  share  without  trouble. 
Sure  I  don't  mind  har-rd  work,  but  I  hate  trouble  with 
the  other  fellow." 

"Well,  if  the  top's  big  enough  for  all,  we'll  get  our 
share,"  declared  the  spunky  Chet. 

"Expect,  though,  if  they've  located  the  mine,  we 
can't  help  ourselves,"  hazarded  Phil.  "First  come, 
first  served."  , 

"They  stole  our  outfit,  though — horse  and  mule  and 
pack !"  retorted  Chet,  indignantly.  "And  they  thought 
they'd  shut  Dan  and  Jim  in  that  tunnel!  You  heard 
'em.  They're  a  set  of  rustlers.  Ought  to  be  run  out 
of  the  country." 

"Wall,  we  can't  be  jedge  an'  jury.  In  old  times 
I'd  have  raised  ha'r  for  this;  but  can't  now,"  spoke 


254  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

back  Grizzly  Dan.  "The  Law  air  boss.  When  we 
get  to  top,  we'll  do  what's  proper  accordin'  to  con- 
science an'  Law  o'  God,  an'  we'll  leave  rest  to  Law  o' 
man.  Even  'way  up  hyar,  we  airn't  beyond  Law — 
an',"  he  added  significantly,  "neither  air  they." 

Steadily  as  they  upward  wound,  over  the  series  of 
inclines  and  levels  forming  this  the  final  ascent,  no 
sign  of  occupancy  appeared,  at  the  cross.  Whoever 
might  be  watching  them  and  waiting  for  them  was 
in  covert;  and  this  made  the  approach  all  the  more 
uncomfortable. 

Now  the  shallow  draw  ended,  and  from  it  the  little 
company  must  file  out  into  the  wide  open.  Before, 
at  the  terminus  of  a  short,  rocky  basin,  flat  and  bare, 
uprose  a  ledge-like  rim-rock,  set  with  the  white  cross. 
Irregular  of  outline  was  the  cross,  viewed  near;  and 
larger  than  could  have  been  estimated  from  below. 

Straight  out  into  the  gravelly  open  rode  old  Dan. 
After  him  rode  Chet  and  Phil.  Phil's  heart  beat 
rapidly :  due  in  part  to  altitude,  in  part  to  excitement. 
For  what  would  greet  them,  all  exposed  ?  Gruff  com- 
mand, volley  of  shots,  what?  But  Dan  rode  out, 
long  rifle  ready  in  hollow  of  left  arm;  Chet,  sitting 
squarely,  his  rifle  plucked  from  scabbard  and  likewise 
poised,  boldly  followed;  and  Phil  could  do  no  less 
than  imitate. 

The  whole  cavalcade,  with  Flapjack  Jim  trudging 
at  the  tail,  emerged ;  and  from  the  vicinity  of  the  great 
waiting  cross  issued  no  sound,  nor  could  be  descried 
there  any  movement. 

"I  see  them,"  spoke  Chet  cautiously  to  Phil  at  his 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  CROSS  255 

elbow.  Advancing  more  hesitantly,  the  little  com- 
pany was  beginning  to  bunch. 

Grizzly  Dan,  too,  was  seeing,  for  his  head  craned 
forward,  and  he  held  high  the  nose  of  his  spotted 
pony,  preparing  for  instant  action.  And  staring,  Phil 
also  saw :  he  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  a  camp  wrapped 
in  sleep.  Beside  opened  packs  were  stretched  the 
figures  of  men,  and  beyond  was  a  horse,  lying  down. 

The  red  gravel  crunched  underfoot;  the  sun  was 
bright  overhead;  and  at  any  moment  the  camp  would 
wake  to  arms.  His  heart  in  his  mouth,  and  thumping 
so  that  it  roared  in  his  ears,  as  they  rode  forward 
Phil  kept  his  eyes  glued  upon  the  camp,  thumb  glued 
upon  carbine  hammer,  forefinger  touching  trigger- 
guard.  He  hoped  that  there  would  be  no  trouble; 
but  men,  especially  desperate  men,  wakening  suddenly 
were  apt  to  do  almost  anything. 

They  had  half  crossed  the  desolate  basin,  and  had 
been  unchallenged.  Now  the  great  cross,  with  the 
camp  near  its  foot,  was  only  one  hundred  yards  away. 
Grizzly  Dan  stood  in  his  stirrups,  the  better  to  sur- 
vey. The  puffing  of  the  little  Irishman,  pegging 
pluckily,  mingled  in  Phil's  ears  with  those  excited 
heart-thumps — so  intense  was  the  critical  moment. 
Grizzly  Dan  clapped  heels  to  his  fagged  pony  and  rode 
faster,  as  if  to  cover  the  brief  distance  at  one  spurt; 
they  all  followed,  the  burros  at  a  trot  and  Flapjack 
Jim  pegging  more  briskly. 

Grizzly  Dan  was  first.  He  pulled  short.  Pepper 
and  Medicine  Eye,  upon  either  side  of  Cotton-tail, 
had  their  ears  pricked,  like  his,  as  if  interested  in  the 


256  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

motionless  camp;  and  suddenly,  with  a  greedy  bray 
and  with  long  nose  thrust  forward,  Betty  broke  into 
a  lope,  forging  ahead. 

Grizzly  Dan  hammered  his  pony  with  his  heels,  and 
whirled  to  intercept.  His  voice  rang  high  and  reck- 
lessly. 

"She  smells  water!  Don't  let  the  critters  drink! 
Don't  drink  yoreselves !  Don't,  I  tell  'ee !" 

There  was  no  space  for  questions.  Grizzly  Dan 
knew  something:  what,  would  be  found  out  later. 
Betty  was  dodging  stubbornly,  but  the  spotted  pony 
out  footed  her,  and  reaching,  old  Dan  grabbed  her  by 
the  lead-rope  looped  about  her  neck.  Now  Cotton- 
tail had  broken  from  the  group.  Chet's  rifle  clapped 
into  his  scabbard,  his  coiled  rope  was  taken  down  in 
a  twinkling  from  the  saddle  thong,  and  hastily  run- 
ning the  noose  he  galloped  after. 

Phil  did  not  wait  to  see  results.  He  had  work  of 
his  own,  with  the  burros.  The  borrowed  burro,  mak- 
ing aside  at  a  quick  little  lope,  was  bolting,  and 
Brownie,  deaf  to  Flapjack  Jim's  entreaties  and  com- 
mands, followed.  Into  the  scabbard  slipped  Phil's 
scarred  carbine,  with  a  jerk  at  the  thong  bowknot  he 
had  freed  his  own  rope  coil;  and  shaking  open  the 
loop  he  galloped  to  head  the  burros. 

Pepper  enjoyed  this,  weary  as  he  was.  It  was  his 
opportunity  to  show  his  superiority  to  burro,  just  as 
to  cow.  Riding  free,  brought  to  the  right  distance 
Phil  cast;  his  noose  fell  true,  and  the  burro,  wise  to 
rope  language,  stopped  short.  Brownie  stopped;  and 
laboring  up  Flapjack  Jim  caught  her,  and  scolded. 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  CROSS          257 

Glancing  anxiously,  Phil  saw  that  Chet  had  roped 
Cotton-tail.  All  the  animals  were  secure — except 
Bonita. 

"Bonita!  Bonita!  Here!  Here!"  cried  Phil,  in 
sudden  agony  of  dismay.  "Oh,  here!" 

He  was  just  in  time.  Bonita,  halted  midway  in  her 
quest  also,  turned  aside  and  came  back,  tail  drooped, 
ears  low,  eyes  querying. 

"You  stay,  now,"  bade  Phil,  sternly. 

All  these  proceedings  had  consumed  but  a  minute. 
However,  they  had  rent  the  mysterious  atmosphere 
with  sound  and  motion;  and  each  pair  of  human  eyes 
leaped  to  witness  the  effect  on  the  sleeping  camp. 

There  apparently  had  been  no  effect.  The  camp 
was  unchanged  in  a  single  posture.  A  cold  fear 
smote  Phil,  steadying  his  heart  but  making  his  hand 
tremble. 

"What's  the  matter  there,  I  wonder,"  stammered 
Chet,  staring  from  rigid  attitude. 

The  little  Irishman  was  muttering  to  himself. 
Grizzly  Dan,  leading  forward  Betty,  spoke. 

"Needn't  mind  that  thar  camp,"  he  said  quietly. 
"But  keep  the  critters  back.  Better  tie  that  dawg, 
too.  The  water's  pizen.  Leastwise,  that's  how  things 
look  to  me.  Hyar's  a  hull  camp  wiped  out,  man  an' 
beast." 

"Saints  presarve  us !"  exclaimed  the  little  Irishman, 
piously.  "I'll  hould  Brownie." 

Phil  was  unable  to  say  a  word. 

"Who  were  they?"  asked  Chet,  his  nerves  under 
better  control. 


258  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"The  three  hostiles,  I  reckon,"  answered  old  Dan. 
"When  we  get  the  critters  tied  fast,  we  can  see/' 

"Here,  Bonita,"  again  bade  Phil.  And  dismount- 
ing he  dizzily  passed  his  rope-end  under  her  collar. 

They  succeeded  in  wedging  the  ropes  of  the  pack- 
animals  tightly  beneath  two  boulders;  here  was  left 
Bonita  also,  tethered  securely.  Upon  their  horses, 
with  Flapjack  Jim  pegging,  they  might  advance  the 
forty  or  fifty  yards  intervening.  Even  in  the  last 
stretch  to  this  gruesome  goal  Flapjack  Jim  paused  and 
picked  up  a  fragment  of  rock. 

"Quartz,"  he  announced.     "The  cross  be  quartz." 

They  were  the  three  men — the  Black  Man,  the 
Cross-eyed  Man,  and  the  Man  with  the  Scar.  This 
was  to  be  noted  at  once  from  their  clothing,  remem- 
bered plainly.  They  were  each  in  a  different  posture : 
the  Cross-eyed  Man  with  his  face  in  his  arms,  the 
Man  with  the  Scar  upon  his  side,  the  Black  Man  half 
sitting  against  the  wall,  feet  to  the  cold  ashes  of  the 
fire. 

They  had  not  been  long  in  camp,  when  stricken. 
The  meager  packs  had  been  opened,  a  coffee-pot  had 
been  filled  with  water,  and  a  few  waif  twigs  and 
splinters  had  been  gleaned,  with  which  to  build  a 
fire.  But  things  were  left  scattered  and  prepara- 
tions -uncompleted,  as  if  the  blight  had  fallen 
suddenly. 

So  here  they  were,  the  three  hostiles,  now  seen  at 
near  view  for  only  the  second  time.  Yet  they  had 
been  so  constantly  in  mind,  that  to  Phil  they  seemed 
like  frequent  acquaintances;  and  so  still  and  harmless 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  CROSS          259 

were  they,  that  he  felt  ashamed  of  having  resented 
them  and  feared  them. 

Their  camp  had  been  made  at  the  foot  of  the  wall, 
beside  the  great  irregular  cross,  whence  welled  a 
limpid  spring.  The  trickling  water  was  very  attrac- 
tive; it  called  to  every  atom  of  Phil's  parched  palate; 
and  in  spite  of  the  ghastly  company  on  guard  almost 
would  he  have  hastily  plunged  his  fevered  lips  into 
the  tempting  liquid,  but  Grizzly  Dan  spoke  again, 
sharply. 

"Don't  drink!  Don't  tech  it,  I  say!  See  that  'ere 
hos,  too?  It's  a  pizen  spring;  sure  pizen." 

Along  a  little  channel  marked  by  a  deposit  of  red- 
dish yellow  (indicating  that  it  was  indeed  a  mineral 
spring)  the  water  flowed  away,  at  a  tangent  with  the 
face  of  the  wall;  and  yonder,  off  toward  the  farther 
edge  of  the  basin,  where  it  collected  in  a  small  pool, 
was  stretched  rigid  a  horse.  Dismounted,  leading 
their  own  horses,  they  went  over,  to  inspect.  From 
here  they  could  see  the  other  horse's  body,  around  a 
projection  of  the  wall. 

The  deceptive  spring  had  done  its  work  thoroughly. 

"Oh,  whew!"  uttered  Chet,  softly.  "If  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  elk,  we  might  have  got  here  first;  and 
instead  of  them,  it  would  be  us!" 

"I  told  yez  there  was  r'ason  in  it  all,"  reminded 
Flapjack  Jim.  "Things  work  out  for  the  best — 
though,  faith,  I  wish  that  other  party  had  not  got  here 
first,  either.  'Tis  not  pleasant,  to  think  of  'em.  It 
be  an  arsenic  spring,  I'm  thinkin',  with  sulphur  an* 
iron.  I'd  rather  give  'em  the  whole  mountain,  an' 


26o  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

lave  'em  alive  on  it,  than  have  'em  be  ended  like  that." 

"So  would  I,"  soberly  agreed  Phil. 

"Wall,  we  can't  stay  'round  hyar,"  declared  Griz- 
zly Dan.  "Thar's  no  wood.  Sech  as  might  have  been 
they  used  up,  every  scrap.  An'  thar's  no  water." 

As  to  water,  all  knew.  And  as  to  wood,  he  spoke 
truly,  for  throughout  the  gravelly,  rocky  basin  over- 
looked by  the  great  silent  cross  not  a  vestige  of  fuel 
sufficient  to  keep  a  fire  five  minutes  could  be  descried. 
Here  nothing  except  a  few  withered  grasses  grew. 
There  was  not  even  forage  for  the  animals. 

"How  about  the  mine,  I  wonder?"  hazarded  Phil. 

"That's  right,"  said  Chet.  "Don't  we  hunt  for  the 
mine?  Here  we  are." 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE  RED  SMOKE 

"CAN'T  eat  an'  drink  gold,"  replied  old  Dan.  "Got 
to  have  water  for  man  an'  beast  an'  pot,  an'  fire  to 
put  under  pot." 

"But  the  map  says  the  mine  is  around  here,"  per- 
sisted Chet.  "Shucks!" 

"Wait,  now,  whilst  I  prospect  a  little  for  yez,"  bade 
Flapjack  Jim.  "Sure,  I  don't  see  any  o'  the  rid  stuff 
about;  an'  the  cross  be  quartz.  Where's  the  float,  if 
here  be  the  mine?  Bedad,  we  didn't  pick  up  any  o' 
the  float  for  the  last  mile,  since  we  entered  the  draw 
ladin'  us  here !  Wait  now." 

Pick  upon  shoulder  he  pegged  briskly  back,  across 
the  gravelly  basin, — as  briskly  as  though  he  did  not 
know  fatigue  and  hunger  and  thirst.  Zigzagging  and 
apparently  searching,  clear  to  the  cross  he  went;  and 
fearless  of  the  quiet  squad  there  (they  could  harm 
him  not)  he  examined  the  face  of  the  wall.  He  pecked 
into  the  cross,  and  he  pecked  along  right  and  left. 
Pegging  still  briskly,  he  returned. 

"Niver  a  color,  an'  niver  a  trace  o'  mine  ould  or 
new,"  he  reported.  "The  quartz  be  barren  quartz, 
an'  the  rock  around  be  barren  rock;  an'  the  float  has 
quit.  Does  the  map  say  that  the  mine  be  surely  at 
the  cross?" 

261 


262  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Hyar's  the  map,"  and  Grizzly  Dan  produced  it. 
"Hyar's  the  cross,  marked,  an'  hyar's  a  hand  p'intin' 
down,  an'  hyar's  the  chief's  feather,  as  sign  o'  the 
mountain." 

Again  they  all  scrutinized  the  square  of  parchment- 
like  hide. 

"But  what's  that  sheep  head  got  to  do  with  it, 
then?"  queried  Chet,  alert.  "Don't  see  any  sheep 
head;  do  you?" 

"Not  I,"  asserted  Flapjack  Jim. 

They  all  surveyed  blankly  around. 

"Maybe  it's  carved  on  the  rock,"  proposed  Phil. 

Flapjack  Jim  shook  his  head. 

"  'Tis  not,"  claimed  Flapjack  Jim.  "But  yez  can 
look,  to  see." 

"Come  on  and  let's  look,"  invited  Chet.  "Come  on, 
Phil." 

He  started;  Phil  followed;  and  leading  Pepper  and 
Medicine  Eye  they  did  gingerly  but  closely  search  on 
either  side  of  the  stricken  camp,  for  sheep  head  picto- 
graph  as  a  token  carved  into  the  rock  face.  They  did 
not  find  it. 

"No  good,"  pronounced  old  Dan,  when  they  plodded 
back,  disappointed.  "No  bueno."  He  was  impatient 
to  be  off.  "Bad  medicine  all  about  us.  Hull  moun- 
tain air  medicine.  We  war  lucky  to  get  through  this 
fur,  an'  we  air  lucky  to  leave  hyar.  Better  go  pronto, 
while  we  can.  Wagh!  Water!  Water  air  what  we 
got  to  have,  now,  an'  mighty  quick.  Lead  pack- 
critters,  say  I,  an'  skedaddle." 

Without  giving  pause  for  any  discussion  he  vaulted 


THE  RED  SMOKE  263 

upon  his  spotted  pony,  and  rode  toward  the  tethered 
pack-animals.     So  Phil  and  Chet  likewise  mounted. 

"I  belave,"  quoth  Flapjack  Jim,  "that  I'll  take  wan 
more  look  around,  whilst  you  be  tindin'  to  the  ani- 
miles.  I'll  join  yez  presintly.  Mebbe  I  can  climb  atop 
an'  view  the  country,  an'  see  what's  on  other  side." 

"That's  right,"  exclaimed  Chet,  inspired.  "So  will 
we.  Come  on,  Phil.  'Twon't  take  long." 

"W-well,"  accepted  Flapjack  Jim,  slowly.  "Go 
first,  if  yez  like.  I'll  follow." 

They  proceeded,  in  a  slight  circuit  to  avoid  the 
water  and  to  make  for  what  appeared  to  be  a  break 
in  the  rock  wall.  Almost  there,  abruptly  it  occurred 
to  Phil  that  they  all  seemed  to  be  doing  a  heartless, 
heathenish  act,  in  abandoning  those  poor  stricken 
forms  without  bestowing  upon  them  a  single  kindly 
touch  or  saying  over  them  a  single  prayer.  They  were 
acting  like  unthinking  animals. 

He  involuntarily  halted  Pepper.  And  looking 
aside,  he  saw  that  Flapjack  Jim  must  have  had  this 
very  thing  in  mind,  for  there  he  was,  bare-headed, 
in  the  camp,  performing  the  friendly  offices. 

"Pshaw!"  murmured  Phil,  ashamed.  "We  ought 
to  help,  Chet." 

Chet  looked.     "I  should  say.     Hold  the  hawsses." 

"I'll  go,"  announced  Phil.  "You  stay;  or  ride  up 
to  the  top,  if  you  want  to."  And  slipping  from  the 
saddle  he  went  across  to  Flapjack  Jim. 

The  little  Irishman  glanced  at  him  approaching,  and 
smiled  sheepishly.  "  'Tis  only  dacent,"  he  explained. 
"They  be  men,  with  souls  in  'em;  an'  mebbe  not  sich 


264  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

bad  men,  after  all.  But  bad  or  good,  God  rest  'em. 
We'll  do  what  we  can,  before  we  lave  'em." 

"I  wasn't  sayin'  anythin'  about  it,  to  yez,"  he  con- 
tinued, as  now  aided  by  Phil  he  adjusted  the  forms 
into  more  attractive  postures,  and  around  them  folded 
their  blankets,  covering  them.  The  gravel  was  only 
a  few  inches  deep,  so  that  no  grave  could  be  dug.  "I 
jist  thought  I'd  tidy  the  place  up  a  bit.  Well,"  he 
added,  now  standing  hat  in  hand,  "peace  be  with  'em. 
Somebody'll  miss  'em,  but  we  don't  know  who.  Any- 
way, sure  they  have  a  grand  place  an'  a  grand  monu- 
ment— here  on  top  o'  the  mountain,  under  a  great  an' 
iverlastin'  cross.  'Twas  greed  that  brought  'em  to 
sich  endin' — an'  I  suppose  we  might  have  been  here, 
ourselves.  'Tis  a  lesson." 

Yes,  reflected  Phil,  soberly,  in  the  mad  race  they 
might  have  been  here  themselves:  arriving  too  tired 
and  eager  and  covetous  to  see  in  the  cross  anything 
but  sordid  gain. 

"The  water  be  arsenic,"  remarked  Flapjack  Jim,  as 
if  reading  his  mind.  "A  few  minutes  taken  for  a 
shmall  tist  o'  the  crystals  it  be  depositin'  would  have 
shown.  But  they  were  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to 
pause  for  tistin'." 

Having  done  the  best  that  they  could,  they  were  re- 
tiring when  the  voice  of  Chet,  above,  leaped  to  their 
ears.  With  the  horses  he  had  climbed  to  the  crest 
of  the  rocky  rampart.  There  he  stood,  he  and  Pepper 
and  Medicine  Eye,  outlined  against  the  sky. 

"Come  on !"  he  cried.  "Get  Dan  and  come  on,  this 
way."  He  pointed  off,  beyond  him.  "That  red  smoke's 


THE  RED  SMOKE  265 

right  over  here.  It's  an  awful  big  country.  And  I 
believe  the  fog's  rising." 

"We  will,"  called  back  Phil;  and  he  and  Jim  has- 
tened across  to  inform  old  Dan. 

Grizzly  Dan  received  them  with  scant  ceremony. 
He  had  gathered  the  lead-ropes  of  the  pack-animals, 
and  ready  upon  his  spotted  pony  was  waiting. 

"What's  the  matter?  Got  to  get  out  o'  hyar,"  he 
rebuked.  "No  time  for  funerals  an'  sight-seein', 
wagh!  Do  'ee  want  to  have  to  drink  mule  blood?" 

Ugh! 

"Chet  sees  something.  He  says  to  come  that  way. 
Fog's  rising,"  announced  Phil.  He  released  the  rope 
of  Bonita  (who  was  very  glad  to  have  him  near 
again),  and  took  from  Dan  the  rope  of  Cotton-tail. 
Flapjack  Jim  assumed  charge  of  the  two  burros. 

"We'll  go  up  thar,  then,"  assented  old  Dan, 
promptly.  "Yep,  fog  air  risin';  better  keep  to  high 
ground;  mebbe  find  water.  Drat  it,  feels  like  snow, 
too." 

Directed  by  Chet,  they  struck  his  trail,  and  through 
a  crumbling  place  in  the  rock  wall  they  climbed  to 
the  top.  A  chill  wind  smote  their  faces.  But  what 
a  view  was  this!  The  long  summit  of  the  mountain 
ran  away  on  right  and  left,  bare  and  rocky  and  broken ; 
overhead  was  naught  but  the  pale  sky  and  a  pale  sun 
dimmed  by  a  stealthy  haze;  below,  the  cloud  bank 
stretched  like  a  whitish  sea — and  nearer  it  seemed,  as 
if  indeed  it  was  rolling  up.  Warrior  Peak  was  hidden 
by  it;  no  trace  of  Lost  Park  could  be  sighted;  there 
was  not  a  familiar  landmark;  here  in  sky-land  they 


266  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

moved  alone,  with  not  another  living  thing  to  bear 
them  company. 

But  Phil  was  too  hungry  and  thirsty  and  worn  to 
enjoy  the  novelty  of  the  situation.  Moreover,  the 
atmosphere  seemed  threatening.  The  only  matter  that 
made  him  temporarily  forget  their  straits  was  Chet's 
eager  pointing,  again,  and  his  word: 

"Look!" 

They  looked.  The  crimson  vapor,  like  smoke,  was 
near  and  plain,  along  the  mountain  summit.  It  hung 
motionless — a  beautiful,  flame-like  plume. 

"But  I  see  green,  too!  And  blue  and  white  and 
yellow;  every  old  color!"  exclaimed  Chet,  wildly  ex- 
cited. "Watch  close,  now!" 

They  watched.  As  Chet  had  said,  it  did  appear 
as  though  there  were  occasional  flashes  of  those  other 
hues,  all  dominated  by  that  steady,  vaporous  plume 
of  brightest  crimson,  top-heavy  and  mysterious. 

( 'Tis  a  Garden  o'  Eden,"  murmured  Flapjack  Jim. 
"I've  thraveled  the  mountains  over,  for  fifty  year,  an' 
niver  have  I  seen  the  like.  Neither  has  Brownie. 
The  rid  plume  be  the  flamin'  sword,  mebbe." 

"Shall  we  go?"  queried  Chet.  "Might  as  well. 
Wagh,  but  it's  getting  cold !" 

"More  medicine,"  quoth  Grizzly  Dan,  shaking  his 
head.  "But  hyar  we  air,  with  fog  nearin',  from  below, 
an'  sky  gettin'  ready  to  snow.  High  ground  air  our 
best  play.  We'll  go." 

He  led  off.  They  followed,  forming  a  cavalcade 
winding  on  over  the  rock  summit,  the  great  elk 
horns  up-branching  from  Cotton-tail's  pack  showing 
finely. 


THE  RED  SMOKE  267 

The  saddle  of  the  mountain  dipped,  until  the  source 
of  the  wondrous  plume  was  above  them,  but  still  be- 
fore. A  gradual  pass  like  a  draw  guided  them  by 
easy  way  on  the  upward  march  again.  It  forked, 
where  they  entered  it — and  crossing  the  broad  hollow 
which  was  formed  by  these  long,  gravelly,  rock- 
foamed  waves,  from  the  rear  of  the  procession  Flap- 
jack Jim's  hail  sounded  cracked  but  exultant. 

"The  rid  float!  Yez  rode  right  by  a  foine  shmat- 
terin'  o'  rid  float.  See?" 

He  held  up  his  hand,  clutching  something.  Strange 
to  say,  the  word  sent  through  Phil  no  electric  sensa- 
tion, and  it  seemed  not  to  affect  old  Dan  and  Chet, 
either.  They  all  rode  stolidly  on.  Water  was  the 
thought ;  water,  and  escape  from  the  snares  into  which 
they  had  fallen. 

Phil  did  glance  casually  at  the  ground,  as  they  began 
the  slight  ascent  of  the  fork  chosen  by  Dan;  but  no 
float  met  his  dulled  gaze.  Flapjack  Jim  did  not  an- 
nounce more  of  it.  It  must  have  ceased,  after  they 
left  the  hollow.  Now  the  air  was  thick  with  driving 
snow. 

Breasting  the  biting  wind  and  snow  squall,  they 
reached  the  top.  Suddenly,  near  and  odd,  a  spectacle 
burst  upon  their  astonished  sight.  They  had  emerged 
upon  an  irregular  bench,  containing  their  new  goal : 
and  there  below  they  beheld  it  all, — the  crimson  sig- 
nal, the  green,  the  blue,  the  white,  the  yellow;  all, 
close  before  them.  And  Grizzly  Dan  threw  high  his 
sinewy  hand,  clutching  flintlock,  and  shouted : 

"Hot  springs !  That's  what  they  air !  Hot  springs ! 
The  smoke  air  steam." 


268  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"B'gorry!"  exclaimed  Flapjack  Jim,  toiling  up. 
"Geysers — or  'most  so." 

Chet  stared.  Phil  gasped.  The  marvel  was  be- 
yond expression.  Vaporous  springs  they  were, 
grouped  in  a  round  basin  set  amidst  the  rocks.  On 
all  sides  the  rocks  clustered,  forming  a  cup;  the  cup 
was  rimmed  with  bright  green ;  and  against  the  bright 
green  floated  and  eddied,  rose  and  fell,  the  colored 
steam,  with  the  red  plume  larger  and  more  steady 
than  the  rest.  The  green  was  vegetation;  the  other 
colors  were  the  springs. 

"Water,  an'  plenty,"  yelled  old  Dan.  *Water— an' 
bilin'hot!" 

With  the  animals  pricking  their  ears,  they  rode  on, 
plastered  by  the  snow. 

"Keep  hold  to  yore  critters,"  warned  Grizzly  Dan. 
"It  may  be  more  pizen." 

"Faith,"  muttered  Jim,  "I  hope  not." 

At  the  edge  of  the  springs  area  they  halted,  and 
curiously  surveyed.  Save  for  a  smothered  bubbling, 
the  springs  made  no  noise.  There  must  have  been 
twenty-five  or  thirty  of  them.  Coarse  grass,  of  vivid 
green,  grew  luxuriantly  around  the  area.  Up  amidst 
it  the  springs  sent  spurts  and  wafts  of  many-colored 
vapor,  and  patches  of  the  grass  were  dyed  by  the 
similarly  colored  stains.  The  green  and  the  stains 
made  a  veritable  crazy-quilt,  fantastically  patterned. 
From  the  center  welled  that  mighty  crimson  plume, 
sluggishly  floating  upward.  Here  the  wind  did  not 
strike.  It  swept  over. 

At  sight  of  the  grass,  and  at  token  of  the  waters, 


THE  RED  SMOKE  269 

the  horses  and  Betty  the  mule  and  the  two  burros 
pricked  forward  their  ears.  Brownie  vented  an  im- 
patient "Hee-haw!"  Cotton-tail  whinnied;  and  whin- 
nied Pepper  and  Medicine  Eye,  pawing  the  gravel. 

Grizzly  Dan  dismounted.  He  passed  his  lines  and 
Betty's  rope  to  Chet. 

"Hyar's  doin's,"  he  uttered.  "Let  this  coon  'xperi- 
ment  a  leetle.  Wagh!"  he  said,  treading  the  marge. 
"Tastes  good  to  moccasins.  Makes  'em  feel  like 
dancin'  medicine,  it  do."  And — "Wagh!"  he  ex- 
claimed, drawing  quickly  back  as  he  would  tread 
farther  in.  "Bilin'  hot;  bilin'  hot"  He  murmured 
plaintively.  "Now,  what  air  folks  goin'  to  drink,  I 
want  to  know?" 

"Dig  a  hole  and  let  it  seep  in  and  cool,"  proposed 
Chet. 

"Might  be  poisoned,  though,"  reminded  Phil. 
"Might  make  us  sick,  anyway." 

The  spotted  pony  grabbed  a  mouthful  of  the  grass, 
and  quickly  spat  it  out. 

"Sure,  it  runs  off  somewhere,"  spoke  Flapjack  Jim. 
"Let's  follow  'round  a  bit  an'  see." 

So  they  did,  on  rather  forlorn  hope.  Occasionally 
they  came  upon  a  small  spread  of  seepage  that  prom- 
ised well,  in  temperature;  they  found  it  warm — but 
it  was  so  scummed  and  colored  that  they  could  not 
risk  drinking  it,  and  the  animals  drew  back  with  snorts 
of  disgust,  in  the  same  manner  as  they  spat  out  the 
grass. 

Thus  the  little  company  made  almost  the  circuit  of 
the  bubbling,  boiling  pot,  until  suddenly  they  dis- 


270  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

covered  the  outlet.  At  the  farther  side  the  cup  opened 
slightly;  through  the  opening  flowed  away  the  drain- 
age. It  formed  a  shallow  stream,  of  richest  amber, 
the  color  of  strong  coffee;  smooth  and  even,  it  flowed 
without  a  sound,  bordered  by  the  rank  green  grass, 
and  emptying  somewhere  beyond. 

Skirting  the  green  bank,  over  the  divide  rode 
Grizzly  Dan,  reconnoitering.  The  others  waited, 
their  animals  patient  and  interested,  but  dejected. 
Old  Dan  raised  his  hand,  and  without  turning  beck- 
oned. So  they,  too,  proceeded.  Incautiously  stepping 
in  the  silent  stream  Pepper  jumped  aside  and  snorted. 
Evidently  the  stream  was  hot. 

As  they  issued  from  the  little  pass  filled  with  its 
reddish  yellow  stream  and  its  deceptive  grass,  another 
wondrous  spectacle  unfolded  before  them.  The 
stream  widened  to  a  large  pool,  again  green  bordered, 
enclosed  by  the  red  ramparts.  The  bowl  was  oblong, 
or  pointed  like  an  egg.  The  pool  lay  at  the  large  end ; 
the  farther  end  was  fair  and  marshy;  and  standing 
knee  deep,  facing  them,  watching  their  advance,  was 
a  familiar  personage. 

'Thar  he  air/'  quoth  Grizzly  Dan,  nodding  sagely. 
"Thar  he  air,  an'  thar's  his  medicine.  Wagh!" 

"Huh!"  ejaculated  Chet,  jerking  forward  his  rifle, 
and  lowering  it  again.  All  gazed. 

'Twas  the  big  elk.  There  was  no  mistaking  his 
mighty  antlers  and  his  proud  pose.  He  stood,  un- 
afraid, lord  of  the  domain,  by  his  stanch  attitude 
questioning  the  rights  of  these  persistent  invaders.  As 
if  in  bravado  he  cropped  a  few  mouthfuls;  and  again 
he  stared,  giving  not  an  inch. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

THE  SHEEP-HORN   MINE 

"WELL,  now,  it  seems  like  the  place  be  occupied," 
commented  Flapjack  Jim.  "Is  there  room  for  all  of 
us,  I  wonder  ?" 

"Have  to  make  room,"  declared  old  Dan.  "Hyar's 
grass  for  the  eatin'.  There  must  be  water  for  the 
drinkin'.  The  critter  air  a  good  sign.  Mebbe  other 
critters  come  in,  an'  we'll  get  pot  meat.  I  tell  'ee, 
it  air  long  past  pot  time.  Empty  meat-bag  says  so." 

He  rode  forward.  They  followed,  as  usual.  The 
big  elk  had  been  observing.  As  they  started  on  cir- 
cuit of  the  pool,  he  changed  position  by  a  few  paces, 
nosing  about  and  snorting,  and  comfortably  lay  down, 
his  legs  under  him.  Thus  he  continued  to  watch. 

"He  hardly  limps!"  asserted  Phil,  astonished. 

"This  air  his  medicine;  this  air  whar  he  gets  his 
medicine,  an'  is  made  strong  agin,"  vouchsafed  old 
Dan.  "An'  I  never  saw  the  like.  It  must  be  heap 
more  medicine  than  our  pool  down  at  cabin,  but 
whether  humans  can  stand  it,  I  dunno.  O'  course, 
he  air  medicine  elk." 

They  passed  around  the  pool,  and  arrived  opposite 
the  marshy  end.  The  big  elk,  lying  out  in  the  middle 
of  it,  kept  tab  upon  their  movements,  but  made  no 
effort  to  resent  or  to  escape.  Rather,  he  appeared  to 

271 


272  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

be  reserving  his  decision,  as  if  fully  confident  of  his 
own  ability. 

Where  the  rock  ramparts  formed  an  elbow,  and  the 
sun  should  be  reflected  warmly,  old  Dan  halted, 
dubiously  surveying.  The  green  marsh  was  before. 
Its  grasses  grew  clear  to  the  red  gravel,  where  they 
stopped  short.  The  red  gravel  continued  on,  firm  and 
level,  to  the  face  of  the  rampart  walls.  The  spot 
was  inviting. 

"Wall,"  uttered  old  Dan,  dismounting,  "mought  as 
well  camp  hyar  for  a  spell  an'  see  if  critters'll  eat  or 
drink,  an'  what's  the  chance  for  humans.  This  chile 
air  'bout  gone  under,  for  food  an'  water;  he  air.  An' 
he  can't  chaw  fust,  for  lack  o'  second.  Let's  off 
saddles  an'  packs,  anyhow,  an'  wait  what  happens, 
whilst  we  scout  a  bit.  Water  can't  be  pizen,  I  reckon, 
or  elk  wouldn't  choose  this  for  winterin'  place." 

"There  isn't  any  fuel,  though,"  objected  Chet. 

"No,"  admitted  Grizzly  Dan.  "Mebbe  we  can  find 
enough  for  pot.  Won't  need  much,  'cause  water 
comes  already  bilin' — or  'most  so." 

If  they  all  felt  as  exhausted  as  Phil,  glad  were  they 
of  a  short  respite.  He  and  Chet  stiffly  swung  from 
saddle,  and  joined  in  the  work  of  stripping  the 
drooping,  anxious  animals.  Dragging  the  rope  by 
which  she  had  again  been  led,  Bonita  trotted  greedily 
to  the  marsh  and  sought  about  for  a  drink. 

"Bonita!  Here!"  ordered  Phil,  mechanically;  but 
he  was  too  late.  Bonita  was  lapping. 

Only  a  few  laps  did  she  take;  then  with  curling 
lips  and  disappointed  mien  she  retreated,  to  take 


THE  SHEEP-HORN  MINE  273 

stand  upon  the  gravel  and  glare  at  the  offending 
brink. 

That  was  a  bad  token.  Leaving  Cotton-tail,  upon 
whom  he  and  Chet  were  at  work,  Phil  ran  down  to 
the  edge.  The  water  gleamed  clear  and  amber,  among 
the  grass  tufts.  He  did  not  one  bit  mind  the  color;  all 
his  being  cried  out  for  wetness.  He  dipped  in  his 
finger.  The  water  was  warm,  verging  upon  hot.  He 
put  his  finger  to  his  mouth,  and  hastily  scooping  with 
his  hand  quaffed  of  his  palm.  With  an  involuntary 
"Ugh!"  he  spat  out  the  mouthful.  He  could  not 
swallow  it.  The  peculiar  flavor  was  nauseous. 

"What  is  it?"  called  Chet.  He  and  Dan  and  Jim 
and  even  the  animals  had  been  eagerly  watching. 

"Sulphur  and  quinine,"  announced  Phil,  as  the 
nearest  combination  that  occurred  to  him.  "Can't 
swallow  it." 

"Hot?" 

"Some."  He  trudged  back,  unsatisfied.  In  fact, 
his  mouth  tasted  worse  than  before. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do,  then?"  queried  Chet, 
generally,  in  dismay. 

"My  idee  war,  thar  must  be  drinkable  water  'round 
hyar  some'eres,  on  account  o'  elk  bein'  hyar,"  de- 
livered old  Dan.  "With  a  leetle  rest,  an'  a  chance  at 
drink  an'  forage  for  the  critters,  'arly  in  mornin'  we 
could  make  forced  march  down  an'  get  through  that 
'ere  cloud  bank,  an'  reach  white  man  country,  all  in 
one  day,  'fore  we  get  snowed  in." 

"But  look  yez !"  directed  Flapjack  Jim.  "The  elk 
be  drinkin'  now,  where  he  shtands!" 


274  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"And  it's  raining!"  cried  Chet.  "Aw,  the  dickens! 
It's  rain  instead  of  snow!" 

Thus  suddenly  their  attention  was  called  from  the 
elk  to  the  weather  again.  Yes,  of  a  surety  this  was  a 
medicine  mountain,  with  many  spells  by  which  it 
rebuffed  intruders.  All  about,  like  a  white  curtain  of 
a  million  strings  let  down,  the  snow  was  falling  thick 
and  fast;  but  over  the  pool  and  over  the  springs  it 
changed  to  rain — a  cold,  soaking  rain.  Phil  shivered ; 
shivered  the  animals. 

"  'Tis  wather,  anyhow,"  said  Flapjack  Jim.  "If 
we  only  had  a  tub  to  catch  it  in !" 

However,  even  as  he  spoke  the  rain,  where  they 
stood,  began  to  come  mingled  with  snow,  and  instantly 
the  snow  outbid  the  drops,  until  more  quickly  than  is 
told  the  little  company  were  all  enveloped  in  the  storm 
that  had  been  closing  around  them.  Above  the  sur- 
face of  the  pool  the  flakes  still  turned  to  rain;  the  big 
elk  seemed  to  mind  it  not,  as  standing  he  sucked  a 
few  draughts  and  browsed  upon  the  grass  about  his 
knees;  but  at  the  edges  of  the  pool  the  flakes  shot 
down  with  soft,  menacing  hiss,  making  cold  the  gravel 
and  the  wanderers  who  were  huddled  upon  it. 
Through  the  white  veil  the  crimson  steam  from  the 
hot  springs  showed  tantalizing. 

"If  we  don't  get  under  cover  somehow  we're  liable 
to  be  wiped  out,  some  of  us,"  asserted  old  Dan,  as 
with  chattering  teeth  the  four  of  them  gazed  vaguely 
about.  "This  chile  can't  stand  what  he  used  to,  he 
can't.  He  air  thirsty  an'  hungry  an'  wet  an'  froze, 
all  to  onct.  His  medicine  air  powerful  weak." 


THE  SHEEP-HORN  MINE  275 

"Faith,  we  can  sit  in  the  pool,  I'm  thinkin',  to  kape 
warm,"  proposed  Flapjack  Jim. 

"I'd  as  soon  be  froze  as  biled,"  grunted  old  Dan, 
shortly.  "An'  not  bein'  medicine  elk  we  can't  waller 
in  the  grass.  No ;  we  got  to  have  food  an'  drink  an' 
fire  an'  cover,  mighty  quick." 

"Stretch  a  tarp  over  some  rocks.  Let's  find  the 
rocks,  or  sticks,"  said  Chet. 

"That's  talk,  proper,"  approved  Grizzly  Dan. 
"Spread  out  an'  hunt  about  lively." 

Careless  of  the  animals,  leaving  them  they  did  so. 
The  snow  was  blinding,  and  striking  out  for  himself 
Phil  speedily  lost  all  sight  of  the  others.  In  variety 
of  cover,  the  area  around  the  pool  and  springs  did  not 
seem  to  offer  much  choice;  but  he  turned  down  along 
the  marshy  end  of  the  pool,  on  the  qui  vive  for  a  rock 
angle  so  constituted  that  a  tarpaulin  might  be  stretched 
over  for  rude  shelter  from  the  wetness.  Bonita  paced 
heavily  at  his  heels.  Through  the  white  reek  welled 
the  doleful  "Hee-haw!"  of  Brownie,  distressed  at 
being  abandoned. 

Amidst  the  near  distance  ahead  showed  faintly  in  a 
high  outcrop  or  rock  rampart  a  cavelike  crack  that 
gave  Phil  hope.  Closer,  it  appeared  to  be  an  opening 
among  boulders.  But  when  he  arrived,  to  inspect,  the 
opening  was  a  longish,  narrow  passage,  with  the  walls 
on  either  hand  so  high  that  a  tarp  laid  over  would 
have  little  effect.  It  was  a  miniature  canon,  the  rim 
a  narrow  crack. 

Through  the  passage  trudged  Phil,  now  in  his  disap- 
pointment wetter  and  colder  and  hungrier  and  thirstier 


276  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

than  ever.  The  canon  turned  to  the  right;  and  sud- 
denly he  emerged  in  front  of  a  genuine  cave,  also  on 
his  right,  with  a  long  pit  extending  down  the  slope 
before  it. 

His  heart  beat  violently.  These  looked  like  more 
workings — like  another  ancient  mine!  Then  caught 
his  eye,  to  thrill  him  afresh,  an  enormous  skull,  of 
twain  cornucopia  horns,  somehow  posted  over  the  cave 
portal.  The  Sheep-horn  Mine !  It  must  be — it  must 
be  the  Sheep-horn  Mine,  for  the  prodigious  sheep- 
horns  had  been  the  sign  on  the  map. 

At  any  event,  the  cave  promised  shelter.  Snow  was 
covering  all  exposed  objects,  blending  them  together; 
but  the  cave  was  there.  Scrambling  along  the  edge  of 
the  long  pit,  followed  by  the  faithful  Bonita  he  gained 
the  entrance,  and  peered  in. 

All  was  silence,  save  for  the  soft  swish  of  the  fast 
falling  flakes.  The  interior  of  the  cave  rapidly  nar- 
rowed, and  soon  closed.  The  floor  was  hard  rock; 
the  ceiling,  six  feet  above,  seemed  of  hard  rock;  and 
the  walls  looked  to  be  hard  rock.  It  was  not  a  large 
cave;  it  was  more  a  short  tunnel.  But  over  the 
entrance  was  that  gigantic  sheep'  skull. 

Phil  did  not  much  delay.  He  felt  that  he  ought  to 
tell  his  comrades,  at  once,  for  here  was  a  haven  from 
the  storm.  Back  he  hastened,  filled  with  his  news. 
He  retraversed  the  miniature  canon,  and  panted  forth 
to  the  marsh  and  the  pool.  The  green,  with  the  yel- 
low water  beyond  it,  fairly  shone  amidst  the  whiteness 
now  coating  even  the  red  gravel  shore.  On  the  shore 
the  animals  were  still  standing  about,  licking  the  snow, 


THE  SHEEP-HORN  MINE  277 

or  hunched  miserable  and  dismayed.  Flapjack  Jim 
was  there,  too,  as  if  he  had  just  come  in,  and  Phil 
hailed  him  with  glad  report  of  the  cave. 

"It  has  a  pair  of  big  sheep-horns,  skull  and  all,  stuck 
up  over  the  entrance,"  added  Phil.  "Maybe  it's  the 
map  mine." 

"I  hope  the  roof  doesn't  lake,  anyway,"  said  Jim. 
"The  weather's  mortal  wet."  He  shivered.  "Now, 
where  be  the  others?" 

"I'll  signal  them  in,"  and  upon  the  snowy  air  Phil's 
little  carbine  spoke  flatly:  "Crack!"  And,  presently, 
again  "Crack!" 

He  was  just  about  to  fire  once  more,  when  Chet 
came  hurrying  along,  with  old  Dan  barely  visible  be- 
hind him.  Wet  and  wan  they  were,  but  Phil's  tidings 
chirked  them  up  a  little. 

"We'll  have  to  tote  this  hyar  stuff,  as  much  of  it  as 
we  can,  right  over  thar,"  spoke  old  Dan,  decisively. 
"What  we  don't  take  time  to  pack  now  we  can  cover 
an'  leave.  Main  thing  air  to  get  settled  somehow  'fore 
dark.  Yes,  an'  get  pot  to  bilin',  an'  somethin'  warm 
inside  o'  us." 

"We  can't  get  a  pack-hawss  through  that  rock  pass," 
informed  Phil,  suddenly  bethinking.  "We  can  hardly 
get  a  saddle  through." 

"All  right.  We'll  carry,  by  ourselves,"  promptly 
declared  the  cheerful  little  Irishman. 

Rapidly  they  gathered  necessary  articles. 

"Did  you  see  ary  wood  over  thar?"  demanded  old 
Dan  of  Phil. 

"Not  a  bit." 


278  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Wall,  I'll  take  pot,  jest  the  same,"  mumbled  old 
Dan. 

Heavily  laden,  they  set  out,  piloted  by  Phil.  It  was 
weary  work,  trudging  thus  through  the  storm,  while 
tired  and  hungry  and  thirsty;  but  they  reached  the 
cave,  and  with  a  grunt  one  after  another  they  dropped 
their  loads. 

"Yis,  'tis  ould  workin's,  agin,"  affirmed  Flapjack 
Jim,  gazing  around.  "I  can  see  the  marks  o'  the 
tools." 

"That's  shore  a  big  sheep  head,"  commented  Chet, 
craning  back  to  look.  "Wonder  if  it's  the  sign  that 
we're  in  the  Frapp  Mine  ?  I  don't  call  this  much  of  a 
mine." 

"We'd  better  get  more  camp  stuff.  Dan  and  Jim 
can  stay  here  and  be  fixing  things  up,"  proposed  Phil. 

"Fetch  the  pack-saddles  in  when  you  come,"  bade 
old  Dan,  as  they  left. 

On  their  return  from  the  second  trip  they  found 
that  the  two  men  had  been  sorting  out  the  medley  of 
stuff,  and  that  the  old  trapper  was  surveying,  in 
mournful  manner,  his  battered  brass  pot. 

"Did  ye  bring  the  pack-saddles?"  he  queried. 
"Wagh!  We  got  to  have  fire,  an'  they'll  burn." 

"Aw,  going  to  burn  our  pack-saddles?"  asked  Chet, 
astounded. 

"Yis;  pack-saddles  first,  my  boy,  an'  nixt  the  ould 
wooden  leg  o'  me,"  informed  Flapjack  Jim,  gaily. 
"An'  nixt  the  pick  handles." 

"Must  have  fire,"  repeated  Grizzly  Dan.  "Hyar's 
a  coon  who  needs  water,  an'  he  needs  coffee,  an'  he 


THE  SHEEP-HORN  MINE  279 

needs  pot  meat,  an'  he  needs  to  dry  his  moccasins.  So 
do  rest  o'  ye.  It  air  a  long  trail  down  mountain. 
This  snow  air  partly  a  blessin'  in  disguise.  Critters 
can  lick  it,  for  water/' 

"Of  course.  That's  the  way  the  cows  and  horses 
live,  all  winter,  out  on  the  range,"  agreed  Chet. 

"An*  it'll  wash  off  the  grass  so  mebbe  they'll  graze 
a  little,  after  while.  But  we  got  to  melt  snow,  an'  we 
can't  eat  grass,  an'  jerked  meat  air  nigh  gone.  What's 
left'll  do  better  in  pot.  This  chile's  teeth  seem  to  be 
failin'  him,  when  it  comes  to  stiddy  diet  o'  leather." 

"An'  if  the  flour  be  n't  too  wet,  I'll  make  yez  some 
flapjacks,  if  yez'll  furnish  the  wather,"  proffered  Jim. 

So  it  promised  to  be  a  better  camp  than  might  have 
been  expected. 

Dan  and  Jim  went  to  work  on  the  pack-saddles, 
choosing  the  oldest  and  cutting  it  apart.  The  saw- 
buck  construction  would  supply  wood  enough  for  the 
fire. 

"We  can  gather  the  snow  with  the  gould-pan  an' 
fill  the  kittle,  b'jabers,"  suggested  Flapjack  Jim. 

"Come  on,"  said  Chet  to  Phil. 

Phil  bearing  the  kettle  and  Chet  the  pan  they 
sallied  forth,  after  snow.  The  snow  was  thick  in 
the  air,  and  already  the  layer  upon  the  earth  was  two 
inches  deep,  concealing  all  objects.  Before  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  was  the  long,  shallow  pit,  and  beyond,  the 
country  sloped  away,  wild  and  broken  and  bare,  until 
veiled  by  the  storm  and  distance. 

"I'd  like  to  get  up  there  and  take  down  that  sheep 
head,  wouldn't  you?"  asked  Chet,  as  they  busily 


280  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

scraped  with  hands  and  pans,  to  fill  the  kettle.  "It's 
yours.  You  saw  it  first." 

"Maybe  I  will,  then,"  admitted  Phil.  "Listen! 
Jim's  using  his  pick.  Perhaps  he's  struck  something 
in  there." 

"Here's  your  skull.  No — there  it  goes!"  cried 
Chet.  "Didn't  take  much  to  knock  it  down.  He 
must  have  jarred  it  loose." 

The  thud  of  Jim's  pick,  inside  the  cave,  had  been 
followed  at  once  by  the  fall  of  the  sheep-skull. 
Bounding  and  sliding  on  its  great  horns,  it  had  rolled 
clear  to  the  bottom  of  the  shallow  pit.  With  an  excla- 
mation, now  after  it  plowed  Phil,  to  rescue  it.  His 
kettle,  insecurely  left  for  Chet,  followed  him. 

He  made  a  broad  trail,  and  landed  with  a  scattering 
of  snow  and  dirt. 

"Never  hurt  it,"  he  called  up,  examining  the  skull. 
"It's  a  whopper.  I  can  hardly  lift  it."  The  skull, 
like  Chet's  elk-horns,  spanned  from  tip  to  tip  as  wide 
as  Phil  could  reach,  or  would  stand  almost  as  high  as 
he  was  tall. 

"After  we  get  snow  enough,  I'll  help  you  haul  it 
out,"  proffered  Chet. 

But  Phil,  letting  it  fall,  had  stooped  and  from  the 
little  area  where  he  had  been  tramping  about  and  twist- 
ing the  skull  he  picked  a  small  object,  which  he 
scrutinized  in  his  fingers. 

"Float!"  he  shouted.  "Here's  a  chunk  of  that  red 
float.  Oh,  jiminy!"  and  he  stooped  again.  "Here's 
a  big  chunk!  Biggest  we've  seen.  This  place  is  full 
of  float,  I  reckon." 


THE  SHEEP-HORN  MINE  281 

"Sure,  if  that's  the  Frapp  Mine,"  responded  Chet; 
and  he  too  came  plunging,  plowing  down,  excited. 

As  they  scraped  amidst  the  snow,  laying  bare  spot 
after  spot,  they  constantly  uncovered  fragments  of  the 
bricky  red  rock.  It  was  so  abundant  and  so  large  in 
pieces,  that  it  must  have  collected  from  a  near-by 
source.  The  cave,  just  above,  seemed  likely  to  have 
been  the  mother  of  it  all. 

The  blows  of  Jim's  pick  had  ceased,  and  the  voice 
of  Grizzly  Dan  issued  querulous,  along  with  the  blue 
tinge  of  smoke. 

"Hyar's  fire,  but  whar's  water,  an'  my  pot?" 

"We'd  better  be  getting  back,"  warned  Chet. 

Stuffing  float  into  their  pockets  and  lugging  the  sheep 
skull,  the  boys  climbed  out;  and  hurriedly  filling  the 
kettle  and  the  pan,  they  bore  their  burden  and  their 
news  into  the  cave. 

Carefully  bunched,  a  small  fire  was  beginning  to 
blaze  freely.  Grizzly  Dan  was  squatting  beside  it, 
smoking  his  short  black  pipe  and  warming  his  hands 
and  feet  and  knees.  The  coffee-pot  was  ready  for 
service.  Bonita  was  sitting,  dozy.  Flapjack  Jim, 
also  squatting,  was  putting  some  rock  fragments  to  test 
of  microscope  and  tongue  and  knife-blade  and  other 
means.  His  erstwhile  merry,  withered-apple  counte- 
nance seemed  rather  doleful. 

"Wagh!  It  air  time  for  that  'ere  water,"  grunted 
Grizzly  Dan,  seizing  kettle  and  pan,  and  holding  the 
pan  over  the  flames.  "Fire  war  goin'  to  waste.  What 
'ee  got  thar?  That  old  sheep  skull?  Never  sech 
sheep  run  the  mountains  these  days." 


282  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"He  fell  down  from  over  the  entrance,  when  some- 
body was  using  a  pick  in  here,"  vouchsafed  Phil. 
"So  we  brought  him  up.  I  want  him." 

"Fell  down,  did  he?"  mused  old  Dan,  turning  the 
pan  about  as  the  snow  melted.  "It  air  medicine  sign. 
He's  been  sittin'  up  thar  for  fifty  year,  I  reckon, 
waitin'  for  visitors;  an'  now  we've  broke  the  spell." 

"Do  you  think  this  is  the  Frapp  Mine,  then?" 
queried  Phil,  alert. 

Grizzly  Dan  soberly  nodded — and  took  a  long  drink 
out  of  the  pan. 

"Wagh!"  he  gasped,  more  satisfied.  "Yep,  o' 
course  this  is  Frapp  Mine,  or  as  much  as  it  amounts 
to.  Don't  'ee  see,  boy?  The  cross  on  the  map  war 
the  cross  o'  the  mountain,  at  other  end  o'  saddle;  an' 
that  red  plume  that  we  took  to  be  chief  sign  war  the 
red  steam  at  those  thar  hot  springs.  Now,  hyar's  an 
old  hole,  right  close  to  hot  springs,  whar  the  hand  sort 
o'  p'inted,  an'  hyar's  the  big  sheep-head,  with  the 
horns.  An'  hyar  air  we — chawin'  leather  an'  drinkin' 
snow-water,  with  an  old  sheep-head  for  our  pains." 

Grumbling,  Grizzly  Dan  proceeded  to  melt  the  snow 
and  prepare  to  make  a  stew  for  dinner — or  supper, 
whichever  the  meal  might  be.  Meanwhile,  as  he  had 
said,  he  "chawed  leather,"  in  shape  of  a  strip  of  the 
jerked  meat,  which  hung  down  upon  his  whiskers  ere 
it  was  slowly  engulfed. 

"But  didn't  you  find  anything?"  inquired  Phil, 
anxiously,  of  Flapjack  Jim.  "We  heard  you  picking. 
Isn't  this  mineral?" 

"Mineral!"  answered  Flapjack  Jim.     "Yis;  of  its 


THE  SHEEP-HORN  MINE  283 

kind.  Want  to  look  at  some?  Here,  then,"  and  he 
handed  up  a  piece  from  his  collection.  Scrambling  to 
his  foot  and  peg  he  stumped  to  the  end  of  the  cave 
and  struck  the  wall  a  blow  with  his  pick.  The  pick 
rang  smartly.  "An'  here  be  more  of  it.  Do  yez 
know  the  sound?" 

"Sounds  like  iron,"  hazarded  Phil.  He  and  Chet 
were  examining  the  piece  given  them  for  the  purpose. 
"This  is  iron,  too,  isn't  it?  Mighty  hard  and  heavy." 

"Iron,  with  the  gould  in,"  confirmed  Flapjack  Jim, 
stumping  back.  He  tossed  aside  his  pick,  as  if  finished 
with  it.  "  'Tis  the  mother  o'  the  float  we've  been  fol- 
lowin',  but  'tis  what  they  call  a  r-re-fr-ractory  ore; 
a  refractory  ore,  my  lads,  an'  the  gould  it  has  the 
gould  it  kapes,  for  all  man  can  do  to  get  it  out.  I've 
niver  seen  the  same  but  wance  before,  but  I  sort  o' 
suspected,  after  what  the  professor  man  said,  below. 
It  be  an  ore  workable  only  on  the  surface,  where  rain 
an'  snow  an'  sun  an'  air  an'  heat  an'  cold  have  treated 
it  for  long,  long  years.  Then  it  became  the  shtuff 
that  we've  picked  up  as  float.  But  beyant,  out  o'  the 
weather,  it  shtays  hard — arrah,  har-rder  than  Pha- 
raoh's heart;  an'  no  furnace  or  chimical  pro-cess  o' 
man  has  yit  dragged  the  gould  out  of  it." 

"Oh,  shucks !"  bemoaned  Chet.  But  he  brightened. 
"We've  found  a  lot  more  float,  though.  It's  knee- 
deep,  down  in  the  bottom  of  that  hollow  in  front. 
See?  We've  got  our  pockets  full." 

"That's  right,"  supported  Phil. 

"Well,  now,"  crooned  Flapjack  Jim,  also  brighten- 
ing. "We'll  do  the  best  we  can  with  the  float,  then. 
Like  as  not  there  may  be  quite  a  bit  there." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

BACK    WITH    THE    SPOILS 

THE  storm  was  furiously  beleaguering,  and  above 
the  white  expanse  of  earth  and  air  the  darkling  sky 
indicated  another  early  evening.  Here  in  the  bare 
cave,  on  the  very  top  of  a  high,  wild  Western  moun- 
tain where  man  apparently  had  not  visited  before 
through  half  a  century,  with  little  fire  and  little  food 
and  many  miles  to  go,  the  party  of  two  men,  two  boys, 
and  a  dog  might  still  have  been  less  fortunate.  They 
might  have  had  no  cave,  and  no  fire,  and  no  warm 
food. 

By  fastening  a  tarpaulin  across  the  entrance  the 
boys  managed  to  shut  out  most  of  the  draught  and  the 
snowflakes  that  would  waft  in.  The  fire,  carefully 
bunched,  shed  constant  warmth,  and  some  smoke ;  and 
around  it,  amidst  the  smoke,  like  Indians  they 
squatted,  blanket  or  robe  enfolded,  while  the  jerked 
meat  stew  simmered  in  the  gold-pan  and  coffee 
steamed  in  the  coffee-pot,  and  snow  melted  in  the 
brass  kettle. 

It  was  a  good  supper,  for  to  eke  out  the  stew 
Flapjack  Jim,  as  he  had  promised,  made  up  a  batch 
of  cakes,  using  the  scraped-clean  pan  and  the  last  of 
his  flour. 

Comfortable,  Phil  thought  upon  the  animals,  out 

284 


BACK  WITH  THE  SPOILS  285 

in  the  storm,  by  the  pool.  But  he  reflected  that  the 
pool  was  warm,  and  that  the  snow  quenched  the 
thirst,  and  that  the  grass  might  become  more  palatable 
— or  that  the  animals  would  grow  used  to  it.  And 
they  had  the  big  elk  for  example  and  company. 

"  'Tis  my  idee,"  vouchsafed  Flapjack  Jim,  speak- 
ing of  the  "mine,"  which  now  sheltered  them,  "that 
the  pit  before  an'  this  hole  above  be  the  pockets  o' 
day-com-posed  shtuff,  where  by  action  o'  weather  the 
har-rd  iron  ore  had  been  made  soft.  The  ould-time 
miners  claned  'em  out  as  yez  see.  Whether  they 
finished  the  lode,  or  whether  it  lades  on  back  indefi- 
nitely under  the  ground,  I  can't  tell;  an'  the  snow  be 
kivverin'  up  other  outcrops,  if  there  be  any.  But  all  we 
could  hope  for  would  be  more  spots  o'  shtuff  softened 
by  weather;  after  we  got  down  in  earnest,  we'd  come 
to  the  har-rd,  untrateable  ore  agin.  So  now  I  guiss 
we  know  about  the  Frapp  Mine,  b'gorry." 

"Cap'n  Frapp  never  would  have  stayed  to  make 
sech  a  hole,  'cept  to  cache  pelts  an'  possibles  in," 
declared  Grizzly  Dan,  wagging  his  shaggy  head,  while 
he  puffed  at  his  pipe.  "Hole  an'  all  must  have  been 
hyar,  'fore  he  traveled  through.  He  war  a  trapper, 
he  war ;  he  war  a  beaver  hunter,  an'  he  had  no  time  or 
eye  for  mineral.  When  he  war  hyar  he  may  have 
tuk  the  scrapin's  an'  packed  'em  down ;  but  he  war  not 
a  miner.  Wagh !" 

"The  inside  surely  be  scraped  clane,"  agreed  Flap- 
jack Jim.  "But  belike  we  can  gather  up  a  bit  of  float, 
in  the  hollow  forninst,  to  take  along  with  us  as  good 
day's  wages." 


286  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"A  ton  would  be  ten  thousand  dollars,"  murmured 
Chet,  sleepily. 

Likewise  sleepy,  Phil  pondered  over  the  fact. 
However,  he  decided  that  it  was  scarcely  possible  for 
them  to  find  and  dig  out  and  pack  a  ton  of  the  right 
kind  of  rock,  before  their  wood  and  provisions  failed. 
And  Grizzly  Dan  seemed  to  be  aware  of  the  difficulties, 
for  he  grunted,  rolling  in  his  robe  : 

"Not  much  time  for  diggin',  I  tell  'ee  all.  If  we 
stay  'round  hyar  we'll  be  snowed  in  so  deep  that  after 
'nother  fifty  years  somebody'll  dig  us  out.  We'll 
have  to  travel  for  lower  country." 

In  the  morning  they  peered  out  upon  a  world  of 
dazzling  white.  The  sky  had  cleared  and  the  sun  was 
shining,  but  all  Red  Chief  lay  covered  with  six  inches 
of  snow.  Before  the  cave  was  naught  but  the  blue 
sky,  and  the  vast,  broken  slope  of  the  mountain  fall- 
ing away  to  the  reddish  foot-hills  and  the  dark-green 
timber  below  the  snow-line.  In  the  one  direction  was 
to  be  traced  the  distant  crest,  itself  also  white,  of  War- 
rior Peak.  Surely,  winter  had  come  to  the  high 
country.  In  the  other  direction,  nearer,  floated 
between  white  and  blue  the  crimson  plume  of  the  hot 
springs. 

Reminded,  Phil  trudged  away  to  the  pool,  to  inspect 
the  horse,  mule,  and  burro  herd.  He  found  them 
doing  very  well.  Their  thirst  had  evidently  been 
quenched,  and  they  were  even  cropping  about,  select- 
ing the  sweeter  of  the  coarse  grass.  Brownie  greeted 
him  with  a  vehement  "Hee-haw!"  (which  probably 
drifted  as  music  to  the  ears  of  Flapjack  Jim).  In  the 


BACK  WITH  THE  SPOILS  287 

marsh  the  big  elk  was  grazing,  unperturbed  by  com- 
pany. Returning  to  the  cave,  and  to  breakfast,  Phil 
reported. 

Grizzly  Dan  had  wakened  not  feeling,  as  he  termed 
it,  "extra  pert."  He  was  stiff,  and  achy,  and  barely 
able  to  hobble  about.  In  fact,  he  was  getting  old! 
At  eighty-odd  years  he  could  not  stand  as  much  as 
once  he  could.  Flapjack  Jim,  who  was  only  about 
seventy,  seemed  little  the  worse  for  wear,  despite  the 
long  climb  that  he  had  made  afoot. 

So,  since  the  animals  were  doing  well,  and  the  storm 
was  past,  they  decided  that  they  might  safely  put  in 
part  of  the  day,  at  least,  here  around  the  old  diggings. 
This  would  give  Dan  time  to  limber  up  and  themselves 
a  chance  to  probe  for  float. 

The  bottom  of  the  hollow  or  shallow  pit  was  ten 
inches  deep  with  the  snow  that  had  drifted  down. 
The  boys  set  to  work  early,  shoveling  with  spade 
and  scraping  with  pick,  to  clear  the  ground.  Flapjack 
Jim  came  sliding  down,  to  help  and  to  pass  judgment. 
The  first  spadeful  of  the  loose  deposit  upturned  satis- 
fied him. 

"Sure,"  he  said,  "if  there  be  plinty  o'  this  we'll 
make  a  little  shtake  yit,  although  'twill  be  no  bonanzy. 
But  bonanzies  don't  grow  on  ivery  bush.  Did  yez 
iver  see  a  rich  prospector  ?  No.  An'  did  yez  iver  see 
a  poor  wan?  No,  for  we're  always  'xpectin'  to  be 
rich,  an'  nade  only  the  big  shtrike  that's  waitin'  over 
the  hill." 

"Which  doesn't  pan  out,  when  you  get  to  it,  lots  of 
times,"  quoth  Phil,  wisely. 


288  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Well/'  mused  the  little  Irishman,  "there  be  so 
many  hills. "  • 

The  float  did  indeed  prove  plentiful.  It  had 
weathered  off,  from  the  lead  above,  and  had  here  col- 
lected through  the  years,  while  other  fragments  were 
traveling  down  the  surface  of  the  mountain.  But  the 
work  was  a  back-breaking,  leg-tiring  business, — clear- 
ing the  snow,  shoveling  the  pieces  large  and  small  into 
ore-sacks,  and  lugging  the  sacks  to  the  rim.  Every- 
thing that  would  hold  soft  rock  was  pressed  into  ser- 
vice; and  the  three  laborers  were  just  despairing* 
because  they  were  running  short  of  carrying  capacity 
(even  though  Phil  and  Chet  were  now  stuffing  their 
pockets),  when  the  deposit  ended. 

They  had  scraped  and  shoveled  down  to  solid  rock, 
when  suddenly  Flapjack  Jim  called  a  halt. 

"Wait,"  he  bade.  "We  be  into  sterile  ground,  I'm 
thinkin'.  See?  Now  you're  diggin'  at  the  mountain 
itself.  Let  it  shtay,  lads.  It's  been  here  a  long 
time." 

That  was  true.  The  character  of  the  debris  lining 
the  bottom  of  the  hollow  had  changed;  and  from  the 
soft  bricky  deposit  they  had  entered  upon  the  same 
red  formation  of  which  the  mountain  was  made. 
They  paused  regretfully. 

"If  we  could  but  make  a  placer  o'  this,"  said  Flap- 
jack Jim,  "an'  wash  out  the  gravel,  faith,  mebbe  we'd 
turn  it  into  a  bonanzy  after  all.  But  we  haven't  the 
time  an'  the  wather,  jist  at  prisent."  He  sighed. 
"Or  if  it  wasn't  for  the  snow,  then  we  might  trace 
some  outcrops  shtill,  an'  shtrike  another  bonanzy. 


BACK  WITH  THE  SPOILS  289 

But  I  guiss  we've  got  enough  for  the  day.  At  laste, 
'tis  all  we  can  carry  down." 

The  voice  of  old  Dan  interrupted.  He  was  sitting, 
like  some  gray  eagle,  in  the  sunshine  at  the  mouth  of 
the  cave  above,  smoking  his  pipe  while  he  surveyed 
the  operations  below  and  the  snowy  country  on- 
stretching,  in  broken  descent,  before. 

"Strangers  comin',"  he  announced.  "Get  yore 
weepons." 

Following  the  trail  they  had  made,  they  scrambled 
out.  Over  the  white  mountain-side  were  advanc- 
ing black  specks, — two  horsemen  and  two  pack- 
animals. 

"  'Tisn't  Charley,  anyway,"  decided  Chet,  quickly, 
as  they  all  gazed. 

"No.  White  men,"  grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "Wagh ! 
They're  f etchin'  meat,  too.  See  it  ?" 

Old  Dan's  eyes  were  marvelous,  for  distance;  but 
Chet's  were  only  a  little  less  in  keenness. 

"I  see  it,"  he  said  in  a  minute.  "A  deer,  slung  on 
that  first  pack-hawss." 

"More  prospectors,  I  wonder?"  queried  Flapjack 
Jim.  "Late  they  be,  then.  'Tis  our  claim,  an'  we've 
earned  it,  entirely." 

"No,  they  aren't  prospectors,  I  think,"  denied  Chet, 
slowly.  And  he  waxed  excited.  "I  know  them!" 
he  cried.  "You  wait,  now.  I  know  them !  Anyway, 
I  reckon  I  do." 

To  Phil  also  the  twain  approaching  figures  upon 
the  horses  looked  familiar;  recognition  struggled 
within  him. 


2QQ  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"That  sure  looks  like  Old  Jess,"  he  stammered,  sur- 
prised and  scarce  believing.  "That  sure  does!" 

"It  is,  too,"  confirmed  Chet.  "The  first  one's  Dad, 
on  Monte.  The  other's  Old  Jess,  on  Lady.  Wouldn't 
that  kill  yuh!  Hurray!" 

"Hurray '."cheered  Phil. 

He  and  Chet  stood  and  wildly  waved  their  hats, 
while  they  vented  a  shrill  cowboy  yell. 

The  two  horsemen  waved  gauntleted  hands  in 
answer. 

"They  must  be  friends  o'  yourn,  I  take  it,"  remarked 
Flapjack  Jim. 

"I  should  say  so!"  assured  Phil.  "One  is  Chet's 
father  and  the  other  is  the  old  Bar  B  foreman.  He's 
ridden  after  cows  as  long  as  you've  hunted  gold.  He's 
a  Texas  Trail  man." 

"Bueno,"  chuckled  Grizzly  Dan.  "I'll  make  pot 
ready  for  some  o'  that  thar  meat."  And  he  bustled 
within. 

The  riders  with  their  two  pack-horses  drew  near. 
The  boys  rushed  to  meet  them.  The  foremost,  Mr. 
Simms,  Chet's  father,  was  a  hawk-visaged,  tall,  lean- 
flanked  plainsman  and  mountain-rancher,  with  crisp 
gray  mustache  and  short  goatee.  Straight  of  back 
and  long  of  limb,  he  sat  his  horse  securely,  even 
sternly.  His  companion,  a  small,  rather  stooped,  and 
much  wrinkled  and  weather-beaten  man,  was  known 
as  Old  Jess.  He  had  been  a  cow-puncher  in  the  early 
cattle  days  of  the  Southwest  and  West,  and  for  many 
years  had  been  Mr.  Simms'  comrade  and  helper  on  the 
Bar  B  cattle-range  and  lastly  on  the  Circle  K  sheep 


BACK  WITH  THE  SPOILS  291 

range.  Phil  knew  both  of  the  men  well,  for  he  had 
served  with  them. 

Now  he  was  "mighty"  glad  to  see  them;  so  was 
Chet. 

"Hello!" 

"Hello,  there." 

There  was  shaking  of  hands.  Bonita  yapped 
madly,  as  excited  as  anybody. 

"Where're  you  going,  Dad?" 

"Oh,  just  riding  through,  on  a  little  vacation. 
Aren't  you  about  as  high  as  you  can  get?" 

"It's  the  jumping-off  place,"  answered  Phil,  all 
agrin. 

"Reckon  we'll  jump,  then,"  smiled  Mr.  Simms,  suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  word,  and  dismounting  as  along 
the  rim  of  the  shallow  pit  they  arrived  at  the  cave. 

•'Wagh!"  greeted  Grizzly  Dan.  "Welcome.  Wel- 
come to  friends  who  fetch  in  meat  to  camp.  Pot's 
bilin'." 

Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess  shook  hands  with  him,  and 
also  with  Flapjack  Jim. 

"Turned  prospectors,  have  ye?"  asked  Old  Jess,  of 
Phil.  "Cow-puncher,  sheep-herder,  trapper,  an'  now 
prospector.  You  certainly  are  1'arnin'  the  West,  aren't 
you,  boy!  Well,  what've  you  found?  Looks  as  if 
you'd  been  gopherin'  quite  a  bit,  jedgin'  from  that 
hole  in  the  hollow." 

"Gold,"  informed  Phil,  importantly.  "Ten 
thousand  dollars  to  the  ton." 

"How  many  tons  have  you  got?"  asked  Mr.  Simms, 
quizzically. 


292  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

"Five  or  six  hundred  pounds,  anyhow,"  declared  the 
sturdy  Chet.  "All  we  can  pack." 

"An'  pretty  near  snowed  in,  to  boot,"  accused  his 
father.  "We'll  help  you  pack  it  down — and  mighty 
quick,  too,  before  another  storm  sets  in." 

"Bueno,"  approved  Grizzly  Dan.  "That's  what  I 
war  thinkin'.  This  air  pore  place  to  winter  at,  with- 
out meat  or  wood  or  any  water  'cept  snow-water 
which  air  bad  for  the  stomick.  Shall  I  help  self  to 
that  'ere  venison?" 

"Sure,"  encouraged  Mr.  Simms.  "That's  what  it's 
for.  And  in  the  pack  on  that  bald- face  hawss  you'll 
find  a  chunk  o'  cedar,  in  case  you're  short  o'  fuel. 
We  brought  it  along  on  purpose." 

"You  see,"  he  continued,  as  they  all  busied  them- 
selves to  make  a  gala  meal  of  it,  "Jess  and  I  concluded 
to  take  a  little  hunt,  for  the  fun  of  it;  first  vacation 
we've  either  of  us  had  in  twenty  years.  Rather  sus- 
pected you  folks  were  up  this  way,  and  down  below 
we  met  up  with  Charley  Pow-wow  and  a  couple  of 
other  Injuns,  who  said  they'd  seen  you.  From  their 
talk  we  reckoned  you  were  liable  to  be  hard  put, 
'specially  after  the  storm.  They  said  this  country 
was  'bad' — with  no  wood  or  good  water  or  any  cover, 
or  forage  for  the  animals  and  snow  piling  up  twenty 
feet  deep.  'Heap  bad  medicine,'  too,  they  said. 
Guess  we  got  here  in  plenty  of  time,  though.  But 
aren't  you  ready  to  go  down?" 

"B'gorry,  I'm  ready,"  asserted  Flapjack  Jim. 
"There  be  nothin'  more  to  do  here  till  the  snow  be  off. 
We've  made  our  clane-up,  sich  as  it  is." 


BACK  WITH  THE  SPOILS  293 

"How  much  do  you  suppose  you'll  clear,  out  of  that 
mess  o'  rock  stuff  ?" 

"Mebbe  eighteen  hundred  or  two  thousand  dollars," 
responded  Flapjack  Jim.  "If  we  can  get  it  down." 

"We'll  get  it  down,  all  right,"  assured  Mr.  Simms, 
grimly.  "And  if  Chet  has  any  share,  that  will  come 
in  handy  on  improvements  on  some  land  I've  picked 
out  for  him  to  work  at." 

"Are  we  going  to  ranch  it,  Dad?"  queried  Chet, 
eagerly. 

"Yes,  sir.  We're  going  to  be  farmers,  if  all  goes 
well — and  we'll  make  it  go  well.  I've  located  a  half- 
section  that'll  need  all  the  time  and  money  we  can 
give  it.  Not  an  inch  of  it  is  cultivated  yet;  but  it's 
good  land." 

"Isn't  Phil  in  on  it  with  us?"  demanded  Chet,  at 
once. 

"You  and  he  are  together,  if  he  says  so." 

"I  shore  say  so,  then,"  declared  Phil.  "I'll  throw 
in  my  share  of  the  clean-up  with  yours,  Chet.  We'll 
make  things  hum." 

"Bueno,"  grunted  Grizzly  Dan.  "That's  right.  I 
air  a  trapper,  an'  Jim  he  air  a  gold-hunter,  an'  we 
both  air  pore  'cause  we  never  settled  down.  Land  air 
the  thing.  That's  where  the  livin'  lies — an*  a  good 
healthy  livin',  too." 

"Right  you  are,"  assented  Flapjack  Jim;  and  Old 
Jess  nodded. 

After  a  big  dinner  they  worked  fast,  for  the  down- 
ward trail.  Mr.  Simms  and  Old  Jess  briefly  inspected 
the  hot  springs  and  the  pool  of  the  elk.  The  animals 


294  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 

were  piloted  through  the  narrow  passage,  and  packed 
again.  And  well  it  was  that  there  were  now  plenty 
of  them,  for  the  rock  was  bulky  and  a  dead  weight. 
The  sun  had  crossed  the  line  of  noon  before  ar- 
rangements were  complete.  Then,  leaving  the  medi- 
cine springs  dominated  by  the  crimson  plume,  leaving 
the  big  elk  in  his  high  wintering  quarters,  and  the  bare 
cave  staring  out  over  the  lonely  white  expanse,  with 
the  elk-horns  and  the  sheep-skull  riding  high  and  the 
Soft  ore  hanging  heavy,  down  for  the  low  country  filed 
the  laden  cavalcade. 


Stirring  ^Books  for  Boys 

BY  EDWIN  L.  SABIN 


A  Story-teller  of  the  Great  West  of  Yesterday 
Thomas  Y.  Crowell  Company    -    New  York 


and  Trail  Series 


BAR  B  BOYS  ;  or,  the  Young  Cow  Punchers 

Phil,  an  Eastern  boy,  goes  West  to  regain  his 
health.  He  misses  a  train,  is  picked  up  by  Indians, 
joins  a  ranch  of  cowboys,  and  after  a  variety  of 
adventures  learns  to  throw  a  rope  with  the  best 
of  them. 

RANGE  AND  TRAIL  ;  or,  The  Bar  B's  Great  Drive 

Phil  and  his  chum,  Chet,  after  a  hard  winter  on 
the  ranch,  go  with  other  cowboys  to  drive  up  a 
fresh  herd  of  cattle  from  New  Mexico.  Scenes  of 
the  long  trail  are  replete  with  color  and  excite- 
ment. 

CIRCLE  K;  or,  Fighting  for  the  Flock 

The  Bar  B  outfit  go  in  for  raising  sheep,  and 
through  the  medium  of  their  new  adventures  the 
reader  learns  many  interesting  facts  regarding  this 
great  industry.  There  are  thrills  a-plenty,  leading 
up  to  the  introduction  of  Grizzly  Dan,  the  old 
trapper. 

OLD  FOUK-TOES;  or,  Hunters  of  the  Peaks 

Phil  and  Chet  go  with  Grizzly  Dan  on  a  hunting 
trip  among  the  passes,  peaks,  and  precipices  of  the 
Lost  Park  country.  They  have  brushes  with  hostile 
Indians,  and  get  on  the  trail  of  a  famous  grizzly 
bear,  "Old  Four-Toes."  With  them  we  see  another 
graphic  phase  of  Western  life. 

TREASUKE  MOUNTAIN;  or  the  Young  Prospectors 

Here  the  boys  turn  their  attention  in  still  an- 
other important  channel  —  that  of  gold  mining. 
They  set  out  to  locate  a  lost  mine  on  a  Rocky 
Mountain  peak,  and  find  —  but  the  reader  must  fol- 
low their  varied  adventures  for  himself.  It  is  a 
story  of  surprises. 

SCARF  ACE  RANCH  ;  or,  the  Young  Homesteaders 

Here  we  bid  farewell  to  Phil  and  Chet  and  their 
friends.  The  boys  have  taken  up  another  great 
branch  of  Western  life,  that  of  the  homesteader. 
who  stakes  his  claim,  clears  his  ground,  and  tills 
his  soil.  Like  all  the  preceding  stories,  this  has  a 
wholesome,  inspiriting  flavor. 

Each  Book  Strikingly  Illustrated 


The  Great  West  Series 


THE   BOY  SETTLER;  or,  Terry  in  the  New  West 

In  the  frontier  days  of  the  West,  when  Terry 
Richard  drove  his  ox  team  across  the  plains,  he 
opened  to  himself  and  his  boy  reader  friends  a  wide 
sweep  of  adventures — all  narrated  so  naturally  and 
realistically,  that  you  feel  they  must  have  been  true. 

THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH ;  or,  Terry  in  the 
New  Gold  Fields 

Terry  and  his  dog,  Shep,  accompany  Harry  Re- 
vere on  a  six  hundred  mile  trek  across  to  Colorado, 
spurred  on  by  the  lure  of  gold.  It  is  the  great 
"Pike's  Peak  or  Bust"  rush  of  1859,  when  boys  were 
called  upon  to  play  the  part  of  men. 

ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE ;  or,  Terry  as  a  King 
Whip  Cub 

Here  we  have  the  next  phase  of  Western  devel- 
opment— in  the  rise  of  the  overland  stage  route 
leading  from  St.  Joe  clear  across  to  Sacramento. 
With  Terry,  who  helps  drive  stage,  we  meet  Buffalo 
Bill,  Sam  Clemens,  and  other  worth  while  people — 
also  some  not  so  much  worth  while,  but  no  less  to 
be  reckoned  with. 

OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL;  or,  Terry  in  the  Great 
Railroad  Race 

As  a  logical  sequel  to  the  stage  coach  came  the 
building  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad — an  under- 
taking so  fraught  with  danger  and  romance,  that 
no  single  book  could  hope  to  compass  the  entire 
picture.  This  book  is  a  fine  achievement — a  really 
big  story. 

A  Boy  Scout  Story 

PLUCK  ON  THE  LONG  TRAIL;  or,  Boy  Scouts  in  the 
Kockies 

How  a  patrol  of  Boy  Scouts  took  an  important 
message  one  hundred  miles  across  the  Colorado 
mountains,  and  the  perils  they  successfully  with- 
stood, is  the  subject  of  this  lively  story. 

Each  Book  Strikingly  Illustrated 


An  Author  Who  Brings  a  Personal 
Message  From  The  Great  West 


Edwin  L.  Sabin,  the  author  of  the  Western  stories 
here  listed,  is  not  only  a  "big"  writer,  but  also  a 
big  man — as  you  can  guess  from  his  accompanying 
picture.  Better  still,  he  is  a  man  who  has  lived 
in  much  of  the  atmosphere  of  his  stories.  He  is 
a  keen  outdoorsman,  who  loves  to  throw  his  rifle 
across  the  hollow  of  his  arm,,  or  whip  the  stream 
for  trout. 

Mr.  Sabin  has  always  lived  in  "the  big  West," 
and  knows  personally  the  trail  extending  straight 
across  plain  and  mountain  to  the  Pacific  Coast, 
which  he  so  graphically  describes.  He  tried  being 
a  cowboy  on  a  Colorado  ranch  sixty  miles  from  the 
nearest  railroad.  He  also  tried  sheep  ranching, 
just  like  Phil  and  Chet,  his  heroes.  He  has  travelled 
across  country  by  wagon,  on  horseback,  and  on 
"shank's  mares."  He  has  hobnobbed  with  Indian 
tribes,  and  talked  with  the  last  of  the  old  plains- 
men, who  knew  Fremont,  Kit  Carson,  General  Cus- 
ter,  Sam  Houston,  Buffalo  Bill,  and  General  Dodge 
—he  who  laid  the  real  U.  P.  Trail. 

Because  of  this  intimate  knowledge  and  personal 
acquaintance,  he  makes  us  see  again  the  picturesque 
West  of  yesterday.  We  witness  the  Pike's  Peak 
rush;  we  lumber  crazily  along  on  the  overland 
stage;  we  stake  out  a  homestead  claim;  we  brand 
steers  and  herd  sheep;  we  track  the  grizzly  to  its 
lair.  Indeed,  there  is  no  important  phase  of  this 
wonderful  life  of  the  West  that  is  not  touched  upon, 
entertainingly  and  illuminatingly,  by  the  pen  of  Ed- 
win L.  Sabin.  The  breath  of  the  great  outdoors 
sweeps  across  his  pages. 


To  Read  His  Vivid  Stories  is  Like  Paying  an 
Actual  Visit  to  Mountain  and  Plain 


THE    BAR    B    SERIES 


By   EDWIN   L.    SABIN 
BAR  B  BOYS; 

OR,  THE  YOUNG   COW-PUNCHERS 

A  picturesque  story  of  Western  ranch  life.  Illustrated 
by  Charles  Copeland. 

RANGE   AND  TRAIL 

The  Bar  B  Boys  in  winter  and  on  the  long  trail  from 
New  Mexico  to  the  home  ranch.  Illustrated  by  Clarence 
Rowe. 

CIRCLE  K; 

OR,  FIGHTING  FOR  THE  FLOCK 

The  ranchmen  are  here  engaged  in  the  sheep  industry, 
and  the  story  has  the  same  real  Western  flavor.  Illus- 
trated by  Clarence  Howe. 

OLD  FOUR-TOES; 

OR,  HUNTERS   OF  THE  PEAKS 

The  two  boys,  Phil  and  Chet,  Grizzly  Dan  and  others, 
figure  in  this  fascinating  account  of  hunting,  trapping, 
and  Indian  encounters.  Illustrated  by  Clarence  Rowe. 

TREASURE   MOUNTAIN; 

OR,   THE   YOUNG   PROSPECTORS 

Tells  of  the  locating  of  an  old  gold  mine  near  the  top 
of  a  mountain  peak.  One  of  the  liveliest  books  in  the 
series.  Illustrated  by  Clarence  Rowe. 

SCARFACE  RANCH; 

OR,  THE  YOUNG  HOMESTEADERS 

Two  young  heroes  here  take  up  some  government  land 
and  engage  most  successfully  in  cattle  raising  on  their 
own  account.  Illustrated  by  Clarence  Rowe. 

Each    Volume    8vo,    cloth, 

Also  by  MR.    SABIN 
PLUCK  ON  THE  LONG   TRAIL; 

OR,  BOY  SCOUTS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

A  stirring  narrative  of  packing,  trailing,  and  camping 
in  the  West.  Illustrated  by  Clarence  Rowe.  12mo^  cloth. 


THOMAS   Y.    CROWELL   COMPANY 

NEW   YORK 


CROWELL'S  SCOUT  BOOKS 

By  JAMES   OTIS 
BOY  SCOUTS  IN  THE  MAINE  WOODS 

Realistic  adventures  in  guarding  a  great  tract  of  tim- 
ber during  one  summer.     Illustrated  by  Charles  Copeland. 

BOY  SCOUTS  IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP 

How  two  patrols  carried  through  to  success  a  big  lum- 
bering contract     Illustrated  by  Charles  Copeland. 


By   PERCY   K.    FITZHUGH 
ALONG   THE   MOHAWK  TRAIL; 

OR,  BOY  SCOUTS   ON  LAKE   CHAMPI^LIN 

The  lively  doings  of  real  Boy  Scouts  among  historic 
scenes.  Illustrated  by  Remington  Schuyler. 

FOR  UNCLE   SAM,   BOSS; 

OR,    BOY    SCOUTS    AT    PANAMA 

A  rousing  story,  telling  how  the  boys  of  "Along  the 
Mohawk  Trail"  render  important  services  to  the  United 
States  in  connection  with  the  great  Canal.  4  illustrations. 

IN  THE  PATH  OF  LA  SALLE; 

OR,  BOY  SCOUTS  ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

The  interesting  experiences  of  the  main  characters  in 
"For  Uncle  Sam,  Boss,"  while  boating  down  the  Father  of 
Waters.  Their  varied  adventures  finally  carry  them  as 
far  as  Mexico.  Illustrated  by  Fisk. 


By  EDWIN   L.   SABIN 
PLUCK  ON  THE  LONG  TRAIL; 

OR,  BOY  SCOUTS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

A  stirring  narrative  of  packing,  trailing,  and  camping 
in  the  West.  Illustrated  by  Clarence  Rowe. 

Each  Volume,  12mo,  cloth, 

A  fine  series  of  wholesome,  realistic,  and  entertaining 
stories  for  boys  by  juvenile  writers  of  recognized  stand- 
ing, who  have  a  thorough  knowledge  of  Boy  Scouts  and 
of  real  scouting  in  the  sections  of  the  country  in  which 
the  scenes  of  their  books  are  laid. 


THOMAS  Y.    CROWELL  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


CIVIL  WAR  STORIES  BY  WARREN  LEE  GOSS 

IN  THE  NAVY,  (7th  Thousand)  Illustrated,  399  Pages,  A  Story 
of  naval  adventures  during  the  Civil  war. 

"The  Marine  Journal "  says  of  it:  "The  author,  takes  as  usual 
for  his  fiction,  a  foundation  of  reality,  and  therefore  the  story  reads 
like  a  transcript  of  real  life.  There  are  many  dramatic  scenes, 
such  as  the  battle  between  the  Monitor  and  the  Merrimac,  and  the 
reader  follows  the  adventures  of  the  two  heroes  with  a  keen  interest 
that  must  make  the  story  popular  especially  at  the  present  time.'* 

TOM  CLIFTON,  A  story  of  adventures  in  Grant  and  Sher- 
man's armies.  (13th  Thousand)  Illustrated.  480  pages.  12mo. 
cloth, 

"The  Detroit  Free  Press"  says  of  it,  "The  book  is  the  very  epitome 
of  what  the  young  soldiers,  who  helped  to  save  the  Union,  felt, 
endured  and  enjoyed.  It  is  wholesome,  stimulating  to  patriotism 
and  manhood,  noble  in  tone,  unstained  by  any  hint  of  sectionalism, 
full  of  good  feeling;  the  work  of  a  hero  who  himself  did  what  he 
saw  and  relates." 

JACK  ALDEN:  Adventures  in  the  Virginia  Campaigns. 
1861-65.  (12th  Thousand)  Illustrated,  404  pages. 
11  The  New  York  Nation* *  says  of  it:  "It  is  an  unusually  interesting 
story.  Its  pictures  of  scenes  and  incidents  of  army  life,  from  the 
march  of  the  6th  Massachusetts  regiment  through  Baltimore  to  the 
surrender  at  Appomattox,  are  among  the  best  that  we  can  re- 
member to  have  read." 

JED.  A  boys  adventures  in  the  army.(  28th  Thousand)  Illu- 
strated, 402  pages.  12mo.  Cloth, 

"The  Boston  Beacon"  among  other  complimentary  remarks  about 
this  book  says:  "Of  all  the  many  stories  of  the  Civil  War  that 
have  been  published — and  their  name  is  legion — it  is  not  possible 
to  mention  one  which  for  sturdy  realism,  intensity  of  interest,  and 
range  of  narrative,  can  compare  with  Jed." 

A  LIFE  OF  GRANT  FOR  BOYS  AND  GIRLS.  Illustrated. 
12mo.  Cloth, 

"The  Christian  Advocate""  (Cincinnati)  says  of  it:  "One  of  the 
best  lives  of  U.  S.  Grant  that  we  have  seen — clear,  circumstantial, 
but  without  undue  and  fulsome  praise.  The  chapters  telling  of 
the  clouds  of  misfortune  and  suffering  over  the  close  of  his  life  are 
pathetic  in  the  extreme." 

THE  BOYS  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  SHERIDAN.  Illustrated 
12mo.  cloth, 

The  "Living  Churh  (Milwaukee)  says  of  it:  "The  story  of  the 
dashing  officer  in  his  war  career  and  also  afterwards  — in  his 
campaigns  among  the  Indians,  form  a  thrilling  story  of  American 
leadership.  The  book  contains  a  thorough  review  in  thrilling  language 
of  the  various  campaigns  in  which  Sheridan  made  his  mark.*' 

Order  from  your  bookseller.  Send  for  Catalogue 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK 


THE  "SILVER  FOX  FARM"  SERIES 

BY  JAMES   OTIS 

THE  WIRELESS  STATION  AT  SILVER  FOX  FARM. 

Illustrated  by  Charles  Copeland.    8vo. 

A  bright,  vividly  written  narrative  of  the  adventures  of 
Paul  Simpson  and  Ned  Bartlett  in  helping  the  former's  father 
start  a  farm  for  raising  silver  foxes  on  Barren  Island,  twelve 
miles  off  the  Maine  coast. 

THE  AEROPLANE  AT  SILVER  FOX  FARM. 

Illustrated  by  Charles  Copeland.    8vo. 

An  absorbing  story  of  the  building  and  working  of  an  aero- 
plane on  Barren  Island. 

BUILDING  AN  AIRSHIP  AT  SILVER  FOX  FARM. 

Illustrated  by  Charles  Copeland.    8vo. 

Encouraged  by  their  success  in  aeroplane-building,  the  boys 
of  Silver  Fox  Farm  go  in  for  a  full-fledged  airship. 

AIRSHIP  CRUISING  FROM  SILVER  FOX  FARM. 

Illustrated  by  Charles  Copeland.    8vo. 

A  further  account  of  the  marvels  performed  by  the  Silver 
Fox  Farmers,  including  the  story  of  the  thrilling  rescue  of  a 
shipwrecked  yachting  party  by  means  of  their  great  air-cruiser. 

BOY  SCOUT  BOOKS 

BOY  SCOUTS  IN  THE  MAINE  WOODS. 
BOY  SCOUTS   IN  A  LUMBER  CAMP. 

12moz  illustrated. 

Other  Books  by  JAMES  OTIS 

DOROTHY'S  SPY. 

JOEY  AT  THE  FAIR.  TWO  STOWAWAYS. 

i2ino,  illustrated. 

SHORT  CRUISE. 

HOW  TOMMY  SAVED  THE  BARN. 

OUR  UNCLE  THE  MAJOR. 

8vo,  illustrated. 

THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


VC  53275 


M61I80 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


